


Take That Ficlets

by emmaliza



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: (i guess), Abandonment, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Anxiety, Arguing, Bad Sex, Beach Sex, Begging For Sex, Bets & Wagers, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Body Image, Bondage, Breathplay, Bruises, Clothing, Clumsy Sex, Cold, Complicated Relationships, Consensual Infidelity, Crack, Crossdressing, Crying, Denial, Depression, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Embarrassment, Empty Physical Affection, First Time, Fisting, Flirting, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Fucking Machines, Gen, Gifts, Grinding, Guilt, Hair Pulling, Hair colour, Hand Jobs, Hugs, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, Injury, Insecurity, Internalised weight shaming, Jealousy, Just the Tip, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, Lapdance, Light Angst, Lightweights, Loss of Virginity, Loud Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Make Up, Marking, Massage, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Morning Sex, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Nudity, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Orgy, Overhearing Sex, Overstimulation, Partial Nudity, Performance Jitters, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Pining, Post-Coital Cuddling, Promiscuity, Public Foreplay, Reconciliation Sex, Rehabilitation, Repairing Relationships, Repression, Resentment, Resolved Sexual Tension, Reunions, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sexting, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Inexperience, Sexual Subtext, Sexuality Crisis, Sharing Body Heat, Situational Sexuality, Size Insecurity, Smut and Humour, Subspace, Subtext, Tattoos, Teasing, Tight Spaces, Topping from the Bottom, Undressing, Unexpected Crying, Unrequited, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Verbal Humiliation, Video watching, Wet & Messy, Whining, Writing, assless chaps, but like in a funny way?, car kissing, dieting, getting caught, implied pining, ruined orgasm, sexuality denial, unexpected comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:59:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 80
Words: 30,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Fics too short to publish on their own.68: "As tattoos go, that’s pretty innocent. Although the girls do love it.” "Just the girls?”69: "Rob? Can you come help me with my make-up for a bit?"70: Here Howard is, same as ever.71: His primary purpose is to get his kit off and make them all scream at what he looks like underneath. Howard knows that.72: "So you've shagged all our bandmates, then?"73: “Seriously, no-one?” "Don’t say it like that."74: Yes, he has a wife, and as such he really shouldn’t be getting lap dances from his best friends. Or at least, he shouldn’t be getting turned on by them.75: Gary, despite having come this far already, still instinctively wants to deny it.76: Jason just has to make Robbie want to please him. And Robbie does want to please him, so badly.77: “It’s a shame. I could make you feel better than that stupid toy.”78: "Easy, Markie."79: Jay's probably done this with half a dozen fellas, he probably knows exactly how short Rob falls. Prick.80: Gary cuts right through him, through anything he might have hoped for, any crumb of praise, just like always. Rob doesn't know why he expected anything different.





	1. Blue Collar (Howard/Jason, M)

He likes this, more than he really ought to. He's always being talked into wearing the sluttiest things on stage, and he doesn't mind really, but this... when the idea came up, wearing a skirt on stage, he's sure he agreed far too quickly, and they all noticed.  
  
Jason definitely did.  
  
Jay's got him pinned up against the wall, one hand inside the long denim skirt all the way open at the front, showing off his knickers. He can hardly accuse Jay of violating his modesty.  
  
"You like this, hey?" Jay whispers in his ear, other hand playing with Howard's nipple ring.  
  
Howard groans and nods. He does like it. He liked it when Jay did it too, although that outfit was a lot more clearly drag and less revealing, and it didn't go straight to his dick like this. It might be too much for him.  
  
"Jay--"  
  
"Shut up." Jason says it in that sure, soft way of his, so the order doesn't feel like an insult. "I've got you." Two fingers sneak inside his briefs, and he groans as he feels them push behind his balls and find his hole. He sighs and leans his head back against the wall.  
  
Well, this is hardly strange for them.


	2. Melon Juice (Robbie, T)

He's sat on the other side of a table while they're crowded around him, and they're - what? firing him? giving him an ultimatum? He's not sure. Jay's punch-worthily calm voice drones on and on in his ear, telling him they can't work with him anymore, not if he doesn't get off the booze and the drugs. What, do they think it's that simple?  
  
Do they really think he's capable of that?  
  
Rob looks across and sees Gary, face like a statue. He's perfectly content to let Jay do the talking, but this "throw you under the bus for the good of the band" (and by the band, he means himself, always) - that reeks of Gaz.  _Cunt_. For the first time, Rob realises just how much he hates him. Instinctively, he looks over his shoulder for Nigel. He's let the other boys be his mouthpiece, but Rob knows he's behind this. He always is.  
  
Howard looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Plaintively, Rob turns to Mark.  _C'mon, we're best mates! Do something!_  But Mark can't meet his eye. Even Mark is fucking sick of him, and really, who could be surprised?  
  
"Rob?" comes Jason's voice, distantly, in his ear. "Are you even listening to me?"  
  
He gets up.  
  
Alright, maybe he's already had half a bottle of vodka this morning, but he walks straight anyway, out of spite. He grabs something from the fruitbowl, and looks back to them with a cheeky smirk - the same smirk that got him in this band in the first place. "Can I take this?"  
  
They all titter uncertainly, not sure if it's one of his usual jokes. Rob isn't either. He walks out the door.  
  
As soon as he does though, a lump forms in his throat. He stares at the fruit in his hand. What is it, a mango, a melon? He doesn't like either. What the fuck is he doing?  
  
He darts back in.  
  
They all laugh, because that's what they've always done, isn't it? Laugh at him?  
  
Then he's gone.


	3. Sex, Lies, and Videotape (Howard/Robbie, M)

It starts as a joke, on one of the rare occasions they room together and not long after that bloody wanking contest they'll be talking about the rest of their lives. Howard bursts out laughing when he sees the cover of the video. "Mate, you bought us gay porn?"

Robbie just grins at him, young and brazen. "We had fun on the bus, didn't we? Might try something new." Howard wants to laugh him off, tell him he's not Gaz and he's not that easy to scandalise, but then Rob raises an eyebrow. "What, afraid you'll like it too much?"

Howard throws a pillow at his head. "Piss off." But like that, the challenge is set. It's not as if he particularly cares who thinks he's what, he wouldn't have joined this band otherwise, buy still he's going to watch gay porn alongside his bandmate to prove his heterosexuality. Right.

He realises this is a bad idea pretty quickly. The sight of tanned, muscled bodies entertwined fills the screen and Howard blinks in surprise.  _Don't muck about, do they?_  Or maybe Rob fast-forwarded to the good stuff while he wasn't looking. Rob nudges his shoulder. "They look like you Doug."

Stupidly, Howard finds himself blushing.

It's not as if he's never thought that way about men before. He's sure most blokes have. It don't mean much though. When he and Rob were racing each other on the bus, with Mark watching, it was hard not to sneak a glance then. But he mostly kept his eyes on the screen in front of him, because Rob's barely more than a kid after all - though he's sure Rob would punch him if he said that out loud.

He's still got his eyes glued to the screen, but it's not exactly helping here. He's seen men and thought, vaguely, he might fancy them, but he's never thought about what fucking them would be like on detail before. It seems both more like what he's used to than he would have imagined, and yet... not.

Howard keeps staring, unable to look away but not yet acknowledging anything he's seeing might be turning him on, and then, he hears a groan.

He turns his head and sees Rob - eyes half-closed, head tilted back, kneading himself through his trousers with the heel of his hand.

 _Fuck,_  thinks Howard.  _Well_ he's _turned on by it._

He knows he shouldn't stare, but he can't look away from this now either. Rob's soft moans join the overwrought ones from the telly, and it all makes Howard's head spin. His dick presses insistently against his fly, and he mindlessly undoes it and starts rubbing himself, sighing in relief. If Rob's turned on by this, he's allowed to be also, isn't he?

But he doesn't know if it's the video that's turned him on, or if it's  _Rob_. Rob doesn't seem to have noticed his ogling, and he starts to feel guilty. Rob's barely legal - is he even old enough to buy porn? He's definitely not old enough to do what they're doing on screen.

Howard starts to feel like a proper creep for doing this with someone so much younger than him, but like, it wasn't meant to be like this. It was just a joke. It isn't meant to be, neither of them is meant to be...

Rob comes in his pants with a gasp, and Howard follows him not three seconds later. For a moment their eyes meet, and Robbie looks just as scared as he feels.

They don't say anything about it though. Rob gets up and gets changed while he switches off the video, and they silently agree to pretend this never happened, that the incident on the bus was the only time, that they are two totally straight blokes who didn't watch each other get off to gay porn at all.

Then it's almost fifteen years later, and some interviewer or other is asking him if he'd be surprised if Robbie was bisexual. Christ, what is he meant to say to that?

"It wouldn't surprise me if Robbie was bisexual. It wouldn't surprise me if anyone was bisexual. It wouldn't surprise me if I was bisexual now."

He pauses.

"But I'm not."


	4. PR (Robbie, Gary, T)

When it starts, it doesn't matter, because you know you're not going to be the big break out star from this band – Gary is, that's what Nigel always said, he was the singer, he was the songwriter, none of the rest of you ever got a chance no matter how hard you tried, so why wouldn't he be the star? Life isn't fair, you learned that awhile back.  
  
So you might as well get your own back, get every snide thought you've ever had out to the press, everything from Gary stealing  _Relight_  from you to offering you Nescafe, it doesn't matter, you're going to be a has been within twelve months, easy, so why not get it all out while anybody's listening?  
  
You're grateful that Geri and her mob keep him from biggest thing in the world as soon as the band –  _your_  band, you keep trying to stop thinking; you want to be something other than part of that fucking band, but you don't think you ever will be – splits, but it's all a matter of time, isn't it?  
  
You're so drunk and high you barely even notice when you start to win.  _Angels_  goes to number four, but whatever, right? You notice George, who says Gary has absolutely no talent – George has always liked you, invited you onto his yacht when that lot cast you out, and Gary has always liked him. He never hid that. You're not quite sure if Gary wanted him or wanted to be him, but either way, you refuse to think this is your fault, refuse to feel guilty. Gaz deserves this, right?  
  
Gary gets dropped by his label and you laugh about it. You laugh about it on that song with Kylie, because you both always fancied her, but you're the one who gets to be in a video with her while he's the one who shrinks off into obscurity. That means something.  
  
Not that you get to shag her either, but anyway.  
  
There are times it's not so easy. Whenever you see Elton – Elton cares about you, enough to kidnap you into rehab, but he loves Gary. He refuses to stop loving Gary, even when everyone else has, and it drives you mental. And then there's Mark; whenever you see Mark you try to make him understand, just how awful it all was, how awful  _he_  was, and Mark just looks hurt. Mark, as much as you love him, did not see things the way you did.  
  
Maybe that's why you go to LA, to get away not only from the people who know who you are, but the people who know what you've done.  
  
Then it's 2005 and you're at the Brit Awards, waiting for whatever they've chosen to give you. But they say the name  _Gary Barlow_ , and no, it can't be. He's too fucking proud for that. You gasp in terror. If it is him, how could you ever look him in the eye?  
  
But it isn't. It's just two comedians – one of them Gary, because he's fat and pretentious and worth making fun of, apparently, and the other, Howard. Howard was never anything but nice to you, but he was always Gary's best friend, and so he gets dragged along for the ride.  
  
You're on stage. You're not drunk and you're not high – on anything illegal, at least – and so you have no excuse. Yet out of your lips slips: “Sorry Gary, but I was always the talented member of the band.”  
  
Then you're the biggest pop star in the world, making of some poor, washed up has-been no-one's heard from in years. Then, you feel the worst you ever have.


	5. First (Robbie/Gary, E)

It's not a surprise, two of them ending up in bed together after a drunken night out. It is maybe a bit of a surprise for one of them to be Gary, uptight and prudish, but oh well.  
  
Gary groans as Rob sends him tumbling onto the bed, landing on top of him. He's afraid that if he doesn't do it quickly, he'll give Gaz time to change his mind, and he couldn't stand that, not now.  
  
There's a gasp as fumbling fingers find Gary's belt, rubbing him through his trousers and umbuckling fast. "Rob," Gary gives a choked moan in his ear. "I haven't..."  
  
Rob stops, pauses.  _Ah. Right._  He hasn't either, with a bloke at least, and he's not quite sure if that's all Gaz means or if he hasn't at all, but either way, it shouldn't be such a shock from someone so repressed. "It's alright," he insists, like he knows what he's doing - which he doesn't, not a fucking clue, but it gives him a thrill to be the one who's meant to.  
  
The clothes come off fast and the lube emerges from somewhere, which is perhaps the first thing that raises Robbie's suspicions. When he drives two wet fingers into Gary's arse, they go in easily, too easily.  
  
Gary's eyes pop open as he gasps, and Rob would say, from the look on his face, he's enjoying it. But also, he looks afraid of it. Hang on, what's he got to be afraid of? Wasn't he expecting to enjoy it? Does Gaz want to shag him or not?  
  
 _Maybe he wasn't expecting it to feel good. Maybe he just took me to bed to keep me sweet, make me too dumb to notice him taking all the solos and lead vocals, and actually wanting it's the scary thing._  
  
Rob's just starting to sober up and as he does, the resentment that's been simmering at the back of his mind ever since he joined this band boils hotter. Of course. It's not like he ever believed Gaz actually wanted him.  
  
Gary bites his lip as Rob fucks him with his fingers, and he takes it so well Rob's suspicions are heightened. What, was he lying before? If not lying, leaving things out. After all, there's a lot you can do and still technically claim you have never. Gaz seems like that type, doesn't he?  
  
It's not like he's always such a prude. On stage, yes, but also - with Nigel. Gary is always hovering about their cunt of a manager, hugging him and kissing his cheeks, and he's done very well out of it. Harmless flirting, you'd suppose, and Rob can't guarantee he wouldn't try the exact same thing if Nige didn't intimidate him so much he usually just wants to curl in a ball and hide around him. But it raises questions. And then there's that bloody mysterious trip to Disneyland not three months ago, and even at the time, Rob wondered what all that was about.  
  
The anger spikes through him and comes out in venomous words he doesn't mean and is going to regret. "Did Nige do this to you?" he snaps. "Did you spread your legs for him first, and decide you'd rather I not know? Or did you only ever suck him off, so it wouldn't count?"  
  
Gary should push him away for that, give him that deathly glare and ask what the fuck he's going on about. A lingering bit of self-awareness tells Robbie he's making wild accusations based on pretty flimsy evidence, and Gaz would be totally justified in clocking him for it.  
  
But he's not going to do that. He's too busy moaning as Rob's fingers spread him wider, deeper. Robbie huffs in frustration. Of course he isn't listening. Gaz is a selfish cunt, so if he's getting off, why would he care at all what anyone else says, does, or thinks?  
  
It doesn't matter, Robbie decides, if Gary is the perfect virgin he claims or not. What matters is, he would. Gary Barlow would do anything for his career, and fucking his way to the top is just one more thing. He's fucking Rob, isn't he?  
  
"Slut, " Rob spits as he pulls his fingers out and slams inside. But Gaz isn't a slut. He's a whore, and that's very different.


	6. Naked (Howard/Mark, T)

"You've got leggings on underneath."  
  
Howard can't help but laugh at the look of naked shock on Mark's face. "Try not to sound that surprised mate," he says, pulling at the hem of his white shorts idly. At that, Mark's turns a little guilty, which makes Howard feel guilty too, and well, bollocks.  
  
"Sorry," Mark mutters. "Just saw those shorts on the rack and assumed..."  
  
"Fair enough, really," Howard shrugs. He too thought he'd be tarted up something dreadful for this one, but for once he's one of the least naked of them in a video, and it's a bit of a relief. Speaking of which. "Though you shouldn't talk," he says, with a nod to Mark's exposed belly. "Ain't you cold?"  
  
Mark simply grins and rounds on him, showing off the black shirt, bright pink letters, and vast plains of bare skin underneath. "You like it?" he asks. "I borrowed it off one of the dancers. She seemed a bit surprised though."  
  
"You don't say," Howard chuckles. Maybe that is questionable, but then again,  _he's_  hardly one to judge. "But yeah, I do like it. Suits you."  
  
There's a pause.  
  
Fuck, maybe he shouldn't have said that.  
  
Mark's grin widens. "Oh?" And then he's coming closer, draping his arms around Howard's neck loosely. "You know, it is a bit of a shame you've not got your legs out after all," Mark says. "You're so tall, you've got lovely long legs."  
  
 _You'll get to see them sooner rather than later,_  Howard wants to tell him, but just then, his throat goes a bit dry. There's no good reason for it to. This isn't much for them; Mark's just kidding about. "Is that right?" Howard manages, sliding his hands down onto Mark's hips. Mark is so small, fits so neatly in his grasp, it would be easy enough to shove him up against the wall and...  
  
 _Down boy_ , Howard tells himself, alarmed by the sudden turn his thoughts have taken. Kissing and cuddling and flirting their way through their careers is one thing, but he's not actually interested. He thinks.  
  
Mark stares up at him with big, eager eyes, and Howard laughs again. "For the best I've not then," he says. "Wouldn't wanna distract from you and your pretty belly. Fans are gonna remember that one for years." To emphasize his point, he swipes his fingers along Mark's ribs, tickles him, and Mark giggles and bats him away.


	7. Homeward Bound (Robbie, Mark, T)

Mark sighs miserably by his side as they wait in the airport lounge for a flight sending him back to Britain and to a tiny clinic off the coast of Scotland somewhere. Why Rob, who's lived most of the last decade in America and who's only really been seeing Mark on a day-to-day basis for the past few months is the one to see him off is a bit of a mystery, but he supposes the others must assume he can understand.

He's not sure he does.

There aren't many things that leave Robbie Williams lost for words - 'mouthy bugger' has been his job since he was fifteen - but he feels horribly tongue-tied watching Mark avoid his eye. He still doesn't get how all this happened. He feels like he should have known.

"I'm not sure I can come back to the band after," Mark murmurs.

Rob blinks. "Say what, mate?" At first, he thinks Mark must be kidding, because something has got to lighten the fucking mood - but when Mark looks up at him, he looks pitifully earnest, anguished, and guilt-ridden.

"I  _can't_ , Rob," he insists. "I can't be - that. Him. Mark Owen. You know, the bright smiley cute one who pets kittens and chases butterflies. It's not real. I mean, I suppose it was never real but... everyone knows now."

For a moment, Rob is dumbstruck. Mark, leave? How? He's spent so long going back and forth on whether he'd ever join the band again, from thinking he'd rather eat hot nails to wanting it more than anything in the world, but now he actually has, one of them's going to quit? And Mark, the one of them who never stopped loving him, no matter how little he deserved it, how much of a shit he was to them? What?

And then he thinks  _no_. It was Mark who talked him out of it when he was ready to tuck his tail between his legs and run, not two months ago. He can do the same. Right?

"So what?" he asks. "You're still you Mark, even if you've slept around and have a drinking problem. Christ, how many pop stars haven't done either of those? I've been wringing my bad boy bullshit for hits for years. People are still going to love you. How could anyone not love you?"

Mark shakes his head, staring into his grey seat again. He's always been a small fella, but as he sinks into the fabric, he looks tinier than ever. "It's different. People know who you are. They love you for it. Me... These people don't want me."

Rob throws an arm around him, afraid if he doesn't Mark will shrink into nothing. "Well fuck 'em," he declares. Mark looks up. "I don't think that's true, but if it is, fuck 'em.  _I'm_  always going to want you."

And, after a pause, Mark cracks a smile.

"Careful Rob," he teases. "I'm in enough trouble with the press as is. We don't need to go starting the gay rumours again!"

Rob laughs, and flagrantly ignoring the advice, he leans over to kiss Mark on the forehead. Mark doesn't seem to mind; he keeps leaning against Rob's shoulder until it's time for him to board.

He's never been one of nature's optimists, but as Rob watches Mark go, he's sure that he is coming back.

 


	8. Semi (Gary/Howard, M)

Joining this band seemed like a great idea, the perfect way to get his career started, up until the point a director is telling him to take all his clothes off and lie face down on the floor. Then Gary starts having second thoughts.  
  
He can't exactly protest though, since the others are already eagerly stripping off, apparently not caring one whit what they might see of each other - Gary knows they've been living in each other's pockets for the last year and a half, but still. Maybe he's being stupid, getting all shy now when they were wrestling half-nude not five minutes ago, but frolicking about in jelly and leather is one thing, this is something else.  
  
His reluctance doesn't go unnoticed, and someone nudges his shoulder. "You right, Gaz?" Howard. "What's the hold up?" Gary looks up and realises How is already bollock naked - bloody hell, of course he is. Gary turns red immediately. He tries not to stare, but with a body like that, it's a losing battle. Howard has more muscles than he can even count, and he traces their lines from that bright shiny silver ring down to the V of his pelvis, taking a curious peek--  
  
Gary blushes and averts his eyes. He's suddenly glad these PVC trousers are so restrictive. Leave it to Howard to be hung like a horse down there, huh? Bastard.  
  
Howard notices his embarrassment, but apparently doesn't notice why. "Oh c'mon, it'll be alright. You look great." That only makes Gary blush more. Howard's body is absolutely perfect for being shown off, but his, not so much. He never thought he was a bad looking fella, but compared to the rest of them, he's aware he doesn't really stack up. He wouldn't say that bothers him, but... "If it makes you feel better, I'll stick my arse out enough no-one will even notice yours."  
  
That makes Gary laugh. He does like Howard, a lot, that can't be denied. He looks back up, carefully keeping his eyes strictly on Howard's face. "I suppose I don't have a choice?" he sulks.  
  
Howard shakes his head, then gives Gary a hard spank on the arse that makes him jump. "C'mon, you big tart, it'll be fun."  
  
Gary grumbles and reluctantly starts pulling off his clothes, wincing at how the PVC drags against his skin, covering his prick with both hands (for multiple reasons) until he can get into position.  
  
Lying there arse-up while a model mops over them all is awkward, weird and embarrassing, but when he catches Howard's eye across the floor and Howard grins at him, he can't help grinning a bit himself. Okay, maybe it's a  _little_  fun.


	9. Background Noise (Robbie/Gary, M)

It's 2002 and Rob is in a hotel in Germany, Düsseldorf or somewhere, he doesn't remember, it's cold at night and he itches with sweat at having the heating turned up too fucking high, he's painfully sober and lolling about on his king-sized bed in a lethargic haze, and he's thinking about Gary. Of course. When isn't he thinking about Gary?

He's anxious and lonely, and the easiest thing in the world would be go downstairs and find some girl all too willing to shag one of the biggest popstars in the world to work out his frustrations through, but he can't be arsed. He can't be Robbie Williams, not tonight.

So instead he shoves his hand down his pants unceremoniously and tries to stroke himself into arousal, hoping that might get him off to sleep, if he can't drink himself into it anymore.

He's still thinking about Gary.

Robbie huffs in annoyance when he realises what he's remembering – those long pianist fingers of his, the smell of his hair when he'd just had it bleached, that fucking smug smirk that always said he knew something you didn't. His prick leaps up in his hand eagerly. No, that's not fair. Nobody else has given a single fuck about Gary in years, why should he?

He growls as he starts to wank properly. He tries to think of someone else, anyone else, any one of the thousands of girls he's shagged or wanted to over the years – but none of them hold a candle. If he's being honest with himself for a second, there's no-one whose hands he'd rather have on him than Gaz's.

That's the worst thing. If he could imagine he just wanted to fuck Gary to hurt him, to humiliate him, to break the selfish bastard who helped make his life hell for so many years (nevermind that he did that long ago).

But that was never what he wanted. He wanted Gary to love him, to appreciate him, to respect him, and that's why he hated him so much when he didn't. And despite it all, despite how hard he's tried to convince himself otherwise, he still wants Gary to love him.

After everything he's said and done though, how could Gary even forgive him, let alone love him? And so lying on his back imagining Gary's sure fingers on him, biting his ears and whispering sweet nothings, he feels more pathetic than he ever did when he was in the band.

That Gary doesn't even exist anymore, he was mortally wounded with his record deal and slowly died in his Cheshire mansion, but Rob still wants him, desperately. And hates him for making him want him.

He comes with a resigned groan, and as soon as he finishes he just wants to curl up in his bed and cry. Because no matter what he does, where he goes and who he is, at the back of the mind there will be Gary, always, always, always.

 


	10. Stagefright (Jason/Howard, G)

"Let me guess, you've come to say 'I told you so'?"  
  
Jason can't help but smile. "Nah. I mean, I was going to imply it, but not say it out loud." Howard laughs at that, and Jason hesitantly approaches him. "You feeling any better?"  
  
Howard winces. "Well, the lung's been reinflated so I can breathe again, but it still hurts like a bastard. Not sure I'll be up to going back on stage for a while yet."  
  
"Nobody cares about that," Jason's quick to insist. Howard looks a little skeptical, and he sighs, running his fingers through the other man's hair absentmindedly. They all came to see Howard in hospital yesterday, and so How probably wasn't expecting to see him again so soon, but Jason needed to check on him, be with him. He often feels like that.  
  
"It's a good thing Mark was nowhere near you at the time," he muses. "Remember how he carried on that time you broke your finger?"  
  
Howard bursts out laughing at the memory, and then immediately starts hacking and wheezing.  
  
"How?!" Jason wraps his arm around him in a panic, not sure what to do. Should he get a nurse? "Are you alright?"  
  
Howard recovers his composure after a second, leaning against Jason's shoulder with a sigh. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just - you're not meant to make me laugh, remember?"  
  
Jason winces. They told them that yesterday, but he forgot. "Sorry."  
  
"Nah, it's okay. You bastards almost destroyed me lungs again last night anyway."  
  
Jason feels torn inside. He's always admired that about Howard, his brightness and humour at the darkest of times, but he is still worried. He's not surprised it's always Howard who injures himself on tour.  
  
"It was risky, what you did," he murmurs.  
  
"...Yeah, I know," Howard admits. "But to be fair, how was I meant to know that doing the splits could puncture me lung? I did that at every bloody concert for years, never had any trouble."  
  
"But you're not twenty five anymore," Jason says, more snappish than he means to be. Howard looks startled. "And you don't have to prove anything."  
  
After a moment's staring at him with those big blue eyes, Howard looks away. "It's not like that. You don't have to worry about me."  
  
Jason bites his lip. The thing is, he's not sure if that's true. The two of them, they were always the dancers at the back, and Jason thinks they have a bond because of that. He thinks he understands a little how Howard's mind works. Howard, shy, emotional Howard who danced until his bones broke and wore fewer clothes than any of them, he always seemed to be trying so hard to please, and Jason's afraid he still is. He's afraid Howard really will hurt himself someday, because he still thinks he has to be 'the body of the band'.  
  
"Somebody has to," he says, and Howard looks up. He smiles. There's something in that sentence, the memory of a moment none of them were quick enough to catch, but they're trying to do better now, aren't they?  
  
Howard doesn't answer him directly, but he leans his head against Jason's chest, wraps an arm around his hip to pull him onto the bed. "Come on," he says.  
  
Jason hesitates. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Howard's still attached to a drip.  
  
"I mean, I punctured my lung and I'm still alive. I doubt a hug'll kill me."  
  
Jason chuckles, and slides onto the narrow hospital bed, clinging to Howard's body so he doesn't fall off. Howard doesn't say anything, but he tilts his head against Jason's shoulder and leans on him for support.  
  
They sit there together in comfortable silence for a minute, and then Howard murmurs: "Can't talk you into dressing up as my sexy nurse then, hey?"  
  
Jason can't help but laugh. "Mate, quid pro quo. You want me to do that, you have to do it first."  
  
And Howard looks up at him, grinning wickedly. "Oh, I can do that."


	11. Third Umpire (Jason, T)

It is a terrible thing happening, and Jason cannot bring himself to care.  
  
Rob says Gary is a selfish, greedy tyrant who trampled over the rest of them in pursuit of his single-minded ambition. Gary says Robbie's whining and exaggerating, and only saying all that because it'll keep his name in the papers.  
  
Jason reckons they're both right.  
  
That's not a generous assessment, and maybe several years for now he'll feel guilty about it, but it feels real. It's not like he didn't always know Gaz was just using the rest of them to chase after that solo career he'd dreamed of since he was nine or something - if Rob was foolish enough to be disappointed, that's his problem. And he should feel bad about Rob ( _you're the one who kicked him out_ , adds a voice at the back of his mind), but when he tries he just remembers the years he spent with Nigel's undressing him at every turn, making constant cutting remarks about his voice and carrying on like Jason wouldn't notice his mic being turned off at every concert - and despite all that, he turned up for every rehearsal on time and sober, never put a foot wrong of he could help it. And that makes it hard to sympathise with Rob's constant state of addled self-pity.  
  
Jason swallows a lump at the back of his throat. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like feeling so cold and heartless toward two men who were, for half a decade, as good as brothers to him. It isn't like him, and he wonders if that's what the band made of him. He still worries about Mark and How, the two who have been neatly shuffled off to obscurity with him, but Gaz and Rob, he can't. He doesn't have enough left in him.  
  
Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. Sometimes he feels like he should speak up, add his voice to their great history war. But nobody's listening. All they care about is Gary vs. Robbie, the big feud and who's going to win it, and the rest of them are just footnotes. And so if it doesn't matter what his opinion is, why is he obliged to have an opinion at all?  
  
Jason knows he's being selfish. But maybe, after all this time, that's what he needs.


	12. Write Me a Love Song (Gary/Robbie, T)

"I like that lyric you know... about you forgiving me? You remember that song I wrote in like, fucking 1997, about your ego? There was that one line, 'could you offer an apology' - so it's a call back, yeah?"  
  
They're in the attic of Rob's LA home, and they've been working on this song for hours. Gary pauses. "Honestly, I don't remember that one."  
  
"Ah. I mean, it was an album track. Why would you?"  
  
Gary has to laugh. "Mate, how many songs about me did you write?"  
  
Rob chuckles in return, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "A couple, yeah," he says. "Hang on, how have you not heard them all?"  
  
He can't hide a wince. "Well, I'm catching up, aren't I? You've got so many songs for me to listen to."  
  
Rob's face starts to wobble. "I'm sorry, Gaz, I know - I was fucking awful to you, you shouldn't-"  
  
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Gary interrupts, reaching out and grasping Rob's hand. "It's okay. No regrets, remember? They don't work."  
  
Rob laughs at that, and while Gary's slumped over a keyboard trying to figure out this melody, Rob winds an arm around his shoulder. He leans into Gary's body, like he would have done back in 1994. "What about you?" he murmurs. "Did you ever write about me?"  
  
Gary stops and thinks. Various lyrics flash through his mind.  _Now you can applaud my best mistake, I love you was too many words to say_. "Yeah," he admits. "I mean, not on purpose, but... yeah."  
  
They look one another in the eye. After a second's hesitation, Rob leans in to kiss him on the lips.  
  
The kiss is gentle, almost shy; after all these years apart they're still learning how to know each other once more. But Gary kisses him back, having thought about him for most of the last decade, and now he is here.


	13. Fashion (Gary/Mark, T)

"No."  
  
"What do you mean no?" Gary pouts from behind his hotel room door. Usually, Mark is ever so kind and polite, careful not to insult anyone or anything, but Gary's clothes are his one exception. But he made an effort today, and it's just a shirt and slacks, how wrong could he possibly have gotten it?  
  
"I mean no." Mark marches in and shuts the door behind him, gesturing at Gary's shirt impatiently. "Off."  
  
Gary hesitates, and then Mark rolls his eyes and starts doing it himself, reaching for the collar instantaneously. Gary gives an embarrassing squeak. "Mark!"  
  
Mark ignores him, unbuttoning with practiced aplomb. Gary blushes as the shirt falls from his shoulders and onto the floor, and even deeper as Mark's hands go down to his groin to unbutton his trousers.  
  
He's left only in his tatty white briefs, and for second Gary wonders if Mark's going to insist those aren't up to scratch either, he should remove them. He doesn't. "There," he declares with that grin of his that means you could never be mad at him for anything. "Now wait here, I'll find you something proper to wear."  
  
Mark walks out and Gary is left embarrassed, mostly naked and slightly cold, but he doesn't move a muscle.  
  
 _Honestly, you'd think he was just looking for an excuse to take my clothes off._


	14. Tripwire (Howard/Gary, T)

Okay, maybe this is Howard's fault for thinking he can sneak back to his hotel room at three in the morning. Still, Gaz usually sleeps like the dead, so he reckons he's just about going to get away with it when he creeps back in–

_Crash!_

Howard lets out an embarrassing noise as he goes toppling over, swears loudly as the cheap carpet grazes his forearms. Something cold and bumpy is digging into his hips. Even Gaz can't sleep through all that commotion, and sure enough, a bedside lamp flickers on. “Doug? What are you – oh fuck.”

Gary practically leaps out of bed, and for a second Howard reckons his best friend is worried about him. But no. When he gets up he finally realises what it was he fell over – an electric keyboard, lying right in front of the door, and that's what Gaz is fussing over. He sighs heavily. “Well, I don't think you broke it.”

“...I'm fine, by the way,” Howard says, annoyed, and Gary looks up.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” He does look at least a bit sheepish then. “Just, they're not cheap these things. I was worried.”

Howard rubs his elbows soothingly. He loves Gaz, really he does, but dear god the bastard can have a one-track mind sometimes. “Why is there a bloody piano in our room anyway?” he asks. “Can't remember it being there when I left.”

“Nah,” Gary tells him, “couple of hours ago, I had the idea for a melody, went looking for an instrument to work it out. Found this. Then Nigel came and got me, told me I was keeping the whole place up. But he talked the owners into letting me take it to my room, so long as I give it back in once piece. That's why I was so afraid of you breaking it.”

Okay, that does explain a bit. But. “Hang on, you got up at one in the morning just to find a piano?”

“Yeah?”

Howard stares at him. “You're mental.”

They both laugh at that. Howard's still in a bit of a sulky mood, but it's not worth arguing over, really. “Well, somebody's got to write the songs,” says Gary.

 _I could write songs if you'd let me,_ but now is not the time for that conversation. Howard pouts mockingly at him. “You love your pianos more than me.”

At that, Gary grins, throws an arm around him and kisses his cheek. “I love pianos more than anybody, Dougie, it's not personal.”

Howard rolls his eyes and pushes him away, and Gary, reassured that his precious piano is in no danger, gets up and heads back to bed. Howard's the one who moves the keyboard to a less life-threatening place, for the record.

He pulls his shirt up over his head, because he needs some sleep himself by now (rehearsals tomorrow are going to be a nightmare). Out of the corner of his eye though, he catches Gary watching him undress. That gives him an idea. “You know, if you're leave death traps about the place for me, the least you could do is offer me a cuddle after to make me feel better.” _Or maybe more._

He hesitates for half a second, but sure enough, Gary throws back the covers to invite Howard into his bed. Howard grins.

“Knew there was a reason I shared with you.”

 


	15. The Other Side (Howard, Mark, T)

He's worried about Mark.

They're all worried about Mark, and Howard was worried about Mark more often that not to start with. It's easy to worry about Mark, since he's so little and fragile-looking, and so sweet and prone to worrying himself. But now everybody's just as worried as he is, because Rob's gone. And without Rob, Mark is going to be a fucking mess.

Howard hesitates as he approaches Mark's hotel room door. He doesn't even know if Mark is in there. Does he want someone to come comfort him? Or does he just want to be left alone? Mark would never tell them if he did.

He hears a smothered sob from the other side.

It makes him pause. Not because it's anything he didn't expect – that's exactly why he's bloody here, because he thought Mark would be an emotional wreck. The plan was to walk in and hold little Markie as he cried, but now, that plan is going awry.

He's not really had time to think through how he feels about Rob leaving. _That's how much of a shit he gives,_ he snapped when he heard about him being off partying on a yacht with George Michael and whoever, but even at the time it felt wrong. Robbie's even taller than him, but he's still just a kid. Howard knows it's a bit late to start worrying about him now, but he keeps thinking, he's the old one, he should have taken some fucking responsibility for once, he should have gone after him, talked him 'round, figured out a way to fix it. He should have...

Mark is sobbing on the other side of this door and Howard should go comfort him, but he can't. The thought of him strolling in there and scooping their Markie into his big, strong, masculine arms and telling him it's all going to be okay, it just makes him shudder. He doesn't know why.

He's all alone in this corridor, there's nobody to see him. It's the most useless thing he could possibly do, but Howard leans his brow against the wood, and starts to cry.

 


	16. Waiting (Gary, All, T)

"You know what we look like, right?"  
  
Gary, who was already slightly embarrassed and trying not to think about that too hard, turns pink. "Shut up, Rob."  
  
Robbie, lying right next to him and just as bollock-naked-apart-from-a-tiny-little-towel, laughs and nudges his bare shoulder. "Hey, nothing wrong with it. Part of the marketing, innit? If they want to shag us, they have to buy the record first."  
  
"Fella'd have to have some stamina to get through all five of us, wouldn't he?" Howard muses on Robbie's other side, thankfully cutting Gary off from embarrassing himself by insisting he can't be bought that cheaply. "Not sure how big a market that is."  
  
"Nah, I reckon everyone picks out a favourite. This is just to compare," says Rob.  
  
Gary grumbles and returns his eyes to the floor. "Guess I've got nothing to worry about then," he mutters.  
  
"Aww, Gaz, your arse looks great," Mark reassures him from the other end of the line. "I'd definitely pick you."  
  
That only turns Gary pinker. "Don't worry, Mark, he's just jealous his arse didn't get picked for the close-up," Jason chuckles, at which Mark giggles and wriggles his own arse teasingly. Gary huffs. Of course he's not jealous, he didn't even want to get his arse out, but he is used to most of the attention being on him. Still, when he sneaks a glance, he can't exactly say they chose wrong.  
  
While he's admonishing himself for having that thought, Rob reaches over and gropes him shamelessly through his towel. "Next time, huh Gaz?"  
  
Gary makes a noise of protest and glares at him for it, but Robbie just grins. Gary finds himself annoyed by how little irritation he can work up over it. He's getting used to this behaviour from his bandmates.  
  
"That's not fair," Howard tells Mark. "Rest of us are going to have to do something to get everyone's attention."  
  
Robbie turns to him instead. "What, spread your legs and get your balls out?"  
  
"Is that a dare?"  
  
Gary sighs and looks back over his shoulder. "What's taking so long?"  
  
Rob needles into him again. "They're just taking a bit longer to stare at your cute arse, that's all."  
  
He is just about to bite back when he hears a cough from over Mark's way. "I'm right here," says the girl, a model from Nigel's agency, clutching a mop and looking like she's barely containing laughter. "We've been ready to go for ages, we were just waiting for you lot to stop bickering."  
  
"...Oh," says Rob, suddenly sheepish.  
  
"You boys ready?" calls the director from behind them.  
  
"Yes. Ma'am."  
  
Gary laughs. At least he's not the only one embarrassed.


	17. Anybody's, Everybody's (Robbie/Mark, E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:** Drug/alcohol abuse, depression.

It's four in the morning and Rob is still too high to sleep, although he's just starting to come down. He knows he'll be a fucking mess at rehearsals tomorrow, barely able to stand, and he can already hear Nigel's shouting ringing in his ears. It's depressing as shit to be doing coke and drinking all alone in his hotel room, but what choice does he have? Rehearsals aren't like tours, where he's surrounded by people night after night urging him on, or girls he can fuck to distract himself. And the others won't do anything harder than molly; he's alone. The only person even near him, physically, is Mark.

Mark.

He leaps to his feet with addled impulsiveness. He suddenly remembers who Mark is, how much he used to love him, and the fact he's but a hallway away, so he goes looking.

The stumbles down the corridor making enough noise to wake the whole hotel, but fuck it. The number on the door is a bit blurry, but he thinks he's got the right one. He swings it open and sends light flooding into Mark's room.

Mark should get mad at him for that, for waking him up, but of course he doesn't, he just hums softly as he opens his eyes, already smiling. That's their Markie: face of angel, smile of a whore. “Rob?” he asks. “It's four in the morning. What's wrong?”

He's totally naked, and among the satin sheets of a spacious queen-sized, he looks even smaller than normal. He remembers back when they used to share rooms in grotty little bed and breakfasts, back when he was excited about this band and happy to be here, and they'd bunch up onto a tiny little single so they could cuddle and talk about the football. It's weird to catch Mark alone in bed, now he thinks of it, but there are no girls for ages and Rob used to love him, he knows he did, so he should still, right?

The door slams behind him and he helps himself into Mark's bed, kisses him roughly, twitching in his arms.

Mark barely even acts surprised, fucker, and Rob wonders if that's because Mark loves him or if he's just sleepy. His tongue is, well, a tongue, wet and strange and foreign-feeling. He's not high enough for this. The way Mark kisses him back, you'd think he'd been dreaming of this for years, but he's seen Mark shag a thousand birds and knows he's always the bloody same. He loves everybody.

Rob throws the sheets aside and grabs his cock, making Mark gasp between his lips. He's already hard, the little slag. Rob's rough with him there too, rubbing and squeezing so hard he might leave bruises. But Mark doesn't complain. He bites at his lips and tastes blood more than once, but he's just trying to find something, dig through he Mark he finds here to the one he loved, the one he thought was a brother from another mother, the one he meant on the street outside a Manchester nightclub and decided he'd stick by forever. He wants their friendship to  _mean_  something, and not just be another part of a manufactured pop band who'll be forgotten and replaced by the end of the decade.

Mark kisses him like he loves him, but Mark loves everybody, so what can that possibly mean? He don't change: he's everybody's friend, everybody's pin-up, everybody's lover – Rob's no different. Really, Mark's the worst of all of them; at least the others don't bother pretending he's any more special than he is.

With a muffled shout Mark comes in his hand, and Rob just stares at it absently.  _Is that it?_  Then he laughs. What, did he think sex would make him remember why Mark used to be special to him? They've both fucked more people than they haven't at this point, having sex with someone won't even make him remember their name.

He tries licking the come off his palm in case that helps, but it's just come. Rob's sure it's much the same as anybody's. It doesn't even take away the taste of vodka in his mouth.

Mark grins up at him, before trying to outstretch a hand to return the favour. Rob bats it away. He's not hard; the chemicals in his body won't allow it.

He crashes down on Mark's body, almost squashing him, but Markie, little Markie, he never complaints. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Rob's shaking body. “I love you,” he whispers.

And Rob knows that, but he cannot make it matter.

 


	18. Noise (Howard/Gary, Robbie/Mark, M)

"Is that Rob?"  
  
Howard looks up from the book he promised Jay he'd read (mostly just to make him shut up about it, but now he feels honour bound to try at least, even though his eyes are starting to glaze over, not helped by Rob's noises on the other side of the wall). "Yeah, think so."  
  
Gary, who was already in a bad mood for no reason Howard can see, huffs and folds his arms over his chest pissily. "Well that's just bloody typical, isn't it? He knows how thin these walls are, he knows we're right next door. Some of us do try to get a proper night's sleep before rehearsals, you know. We're not all in this band just for the sex."  
  
Howard rolls his eyes. Gary could sleep through a hurricane, Howard doesn't know what he's worried about. It's easy to think Gary's only mad because Robbie's getting laid and he isn't. "Go easy on him, mate," he says. "He's seventeen, what do you expect?"  
  
With yet more grumbling, but not an answer, Gary sits down on his bed. Howard expects him to reach for his notebook and write a little before bed, or something, but he just stares at the chipped plaster wall next to him, listening to Rob's loud moans and throaty gasps and the choked " _fuck!_ " that reverberates through the building.  
  
"God," says Gary, his annoyed voice now tinged with something like awe. "He is loud, isn't he?"  
  
Howard gives him a curious look.  _Yeah, he's definitely mad he's not getting laid with Robbie._  
  
Before he has to come up with an answer, a second set of moans join Rob's. Which isn't a surprise; Howard didn't think Rob would be that loud while just having a wank unless he was doing it deliberately to annoy them (which can't be ruled out, with Rob). The other voice is higher than Rob's, but not exactly feminine. A bit too guttural. It sounds familiar, but Howard can't place it until he hears Rob's cries get higher: "Oh shit, don't stop, don't stop, Markie Markie please!"  
  
"Wait," says Gary, "is that  _Mark_?"  
  
"...So it is," Howard answers, too gobsmacked to even make fun of Gaz for stating the bleeding obvious.  
  
After a few seconds of dazed staring, Gary snaps his back razor straight, and declares: "We have to stop them."  
  
That brings Howard back to reality. "What, why?"  
  
"Because - they're our bandmates!" Howard fails to see how that makes whoever Robbie and Mark choose to shag any of their business, even if they choose each other. "It can't be good for the group dynamic. And what if the press found out? What will Nigel think?"  
  
Howard rolls his eyes at Gary's desperate flailing, tossing his book aside ( _sorry Jay,_  he thinks). Gary finally stops blathering as Howard paces across the room, but Howard doesn't let that stop him. He leans over and pulls Gary into a hard, passionate, silent kiss.  
  
Wound up as he is, Gary melts into it instantly. Howard feels a tongue pushed between his lips, teeth nipping him insistently, fingers tugging at his shirt like Gaz is desperate for it.  _Yeah, that's what I thought._  
  
They break apart, and Howard takes a moment to look at Gary's wideblown pupils and the telltale stiffness in his trousers. "Gaz," he says, "if I go to bed with you, will you shut up?"  
  
Gary stares at him, slackjawed, before he remembers to close his mouth. He gulps. "Yeah," he whispers, so quiet Howard can barely hear him over all the noise Rob and Mark are making. "Yeah."  
  
Howard grins. Leave it to him to be the one to sort this out for them.


	19. Give 'Em an Inch... (Mark/Robbie, E)

They're both drunk, which they often are, and Mark should probably feel bad about that but really, it's just easy to give in and match Rob drink for drink. As drunken young lads have since time immemorial, they collapse into a pile of affection as soon as they're back to their hotel room, giggling and whispering slurred  _I love you, mate_ s under the covers.

If it's not really normal for said drunk lads to end up kissing and grinding and wanking each other off, well, who's counting?

Mark is moaning softly with Rob's hand wrapped around his dick, pinned underneath him and blissfully content, when Rob pulls away from his mouth, green eyes wide and innocent. “Markie,” he pants, “Markie, I want to try it.”

 _Want to try what?_  Mark thinks, only half paying attention. But then he feels two fingers slip inside his pulled-down boxers and behind his balls, poking and probing at his hole, and  _oh_.

“I won't do much, promise,” Rob blurts out at a million miles an hour. “Just the tip, I swear. I just, I need to try it, just once. Please Markie, let me, please.”

Men are a bit of a thing for Rob. Mark's seen him before, scoping out men at the clubs they used to play. He didn't like it. Which is weird; he never thought he had a problem with that sort of thing. Or is he just jealous? Honestly, he doesn't know which would be worse.

He should say no, or he should at least hesitate – he should worry about what this will do to the band, what it'll do to  _him_. But none of that matters. It's Rob, and when has Mark ever been able to deny Rob anything?

Mark nods, and within seconds his underwear flies off and onto the floor, Rob kissing him briskly as he slides into position. Mark chokes as he feels the tip of Rob's cock slide along his crack. They don't have lube or anything like that, and when the broad head of it breaches him, he braces himself, nails digging into Rob's sides.

“Oh, fuck,” Rob moans, his eyes sliding shut in bliss. He bucks forward, just an inch slipping inside Mark. “That feels so good, oh god, fuck, yes.”

Rob's hands move to hold him still, one grabbing his arse, the other resting just over his dolphin tattoo. Mark whimpers. “Rob,” he says, and his voice sounds like it's been strangled out of him, “more.”

But Rob, true to his word, never puts more than the tip in. That's all he wants.

 


	20. Middle Management (Robbie, Gary, T)

“Where the hell have you been?”

Gary jumps in alarm, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden flood of light, but he re-adjusts quickly, wearing that same bitchy expression as always. “Rob. It's two in the fucking morning.”

Rob shrugs. Really, the way Gaz whines about him being off partying all night all the time, you'd think he'd be pleased to see Rob actually in bed for once. “That doesn't answer my question,” he snaps, not willing to let Gary get the upper hand this time. Gary huffs in irritation as he pulls his shirt over his head, clearly wondering why he agreed to share a room with Rob in the first place. Rob swallows hard at the broad expanse of pale skin. “Were you with Nigel?”

Halfway through unbuckling his jeans, Gary stops, and looks at him in confusion. “Why would you ask that?”

“Good a theory as any,” he says. “That's not a no.”

And Gaz looks a bit embarrassed, averting his eyes. “He wanted me to run through some new songs I'm working on,” he mutters.

Rob half wants to laugh aloud, half wants to scream. “Oh, I bet,” he says. “Did he want you to do some  _vocal warm-ups_  too?”

Gary's eyes snap back up, and he glowers. “What are you implying?”

He should back down now, before Gary tells Nigel and he really gets in trouble, but Rob's never been known for his impulse control. “I'm not implying nothing,” he lies. “Just if he's less of a cunt than usual tomorrow, I'll know who to thank.”

“Don't be stupid, Rob.”

“I'm not stupid!” He'd have to be stupid not have suspicions, not to have noticed the flirty glances, hugs and cheek kisses. There has to be something going on. Gary's songs aren't  _that_  good. Why else would Nige treat him like god's gift? “Anyway, I don't think it's a big deal. Somebody gotta do it. What's even the point of being a band manager if you can't get some pretty young thing to suck you off?”

Gary's practically purple by now. Rob should have known that'd get under his skin. Nevermind being called a whore, god forbid he ever have to hear he's not special.

He'd never admit it, though. “He has a boyfriend, you know,” he growls through gritted teeth.

Rob  _didn't_  know that, and it just pisses him off more. “You been to his house a lot then?”

“Rob!” Gary's temper snaps. Rob jumps. “I'm not shagging him. And if I was, it wouldn't be any of your business. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

He turns the lights off, interrupting their argument halfway through. Rob seethes.  _He treats me like a child_. He watches as Gary's silhouette tears the rest of his clothes off before crawling into bed, uncharacteristically not even bothering to put anything on before he does so. Probably out of sheer spite.  _Cunt. Bet he's not that smug with a dick in his mouth._

Rob settles back down on his pillow, still stewing in anger, knowing he won't sleep a wink. There must be something going on, has to be. Why else would he think about it so much?

 


	21. Machine (Howard, All, M)

When they all arrived at Rob's sprawling California mansion, and Rob said he had a present for them, he didn't know what he was expecting. Not this. But he at least is less shocked than the others.

Gary can't stop staring at it, like if he takes his eyes away for a second it might leap from its position at the corner of the room and attack him. Howard smiles fondly at the thought. Gary has come on in leaps and bounds when it comes to this sort of thing over the past quarter century, but still, you gotta go slightly easy on him. "Rob," he says slowly, calmly. "What-?"

"It's a fucking machine!" Rob announces with a wild grin. Gary, already clearly embarrassed, starts turning pink.

"Yes  _I know what it is_." And Howard smothers a snort. He's snuck a peak at Gaz's internet history once or twice; he's not surprised Gary recognises the contraption. "What's it doing here?"

Rob pouts, clearly put out by Gaz's reaction. "It was meant to be your present. Do you not like it? I thought it would be fun, but if you don't want-"

Howard can see the quickly spreading guilt across Gary's face, and he starts backtracking fast. "No, no, Rob, it's not-" he sighs. "It's not that I don't want to. I'm sorry. I just got a bit of a shock, that's all. I mean, you know what I'm like."

"Are you sure?" Rob asks skeptically. "Because you know, I have these stupid ideas all the time, but I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"Rob. It's fine." Gary smiles. "I'm glad you were thinking of is."

Quietly in the background, Howard sighs.  _Trust those two to get sentimental over a bloody fucking machine._  Given their history though, he probably shouldn't complain.

Meanwhile, Mark has come to kneel by the contraption, a black leather seat surrounded by metal bits and bobs that could easily be mistaken for some sort of gym equipment, if not for the the bright blue dildo sticking up from it. "That looks big," he says, fingers reaching out toward the phallus gently, and Howard suspects he's  _very_  interested in this idea. Suddenly he looks up. "Wait, do we know it's safe? You hear about that you know, people try and make things like this out of power tools and as soon as you know--"

_Leave it to him to worry about everything,_  thinks Howard. "What, no," says Rob. "Come on, there is some point to being one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. It's totally professionally made, like they for on porn sets." He pauses. "Might have come from a porn set, now I think of it."

Gary's blush worsens. " _Rob!_ "

"Kidding, Gaz!" Rob claps his shoulder. "It's totally new, hasn't been touched at all."

That gets Howard's attention, and he looks at Rob suspiciously. "What, you didn't try it out before we got here?"

Robbie looks nonplussed. "Well, no," he says. "It was meant to be a present. What sort of host would I be if I opened your present before you got here?"

_Fair enough,_  Howard thinks, and to his side, Jason hums. "I admit, I don't really see the point," he says. "Strapping yourself to a machine and letting it have its way with you. That's not the natural way to fuck. But of course, if it's what you want Rob..."

Rob gives him a look. "Mate, only you could have a problem with the 'machine' bit, and not the fucking bit."

Jason laughs good-naturedly at that. "So who should go first, then?" he asks, blue eyes wide in a way that suggests he has a preferred answer. "Or should we draw straws, to make it fair?"

None of them can argue with that. Rob runs off to his kitchen, while the rest of them wait with the machine, Gary occasionally giving it suspicious glances.

Howard doesn't think much of it when he pulls his straw from Rob's hand. He's sure they're all going to get a go anyway, and besides, it takes a lot to shock him.

Until he realises he's drawn the short straw.

_Oh, bollocks._

 


	22. Homebodies (Gary/Robbie, T)

This song is almost finished; Gary's struggling a little with the outro, but it's coming together, it's almost there, and then-

"Gaz!"

"Ack!" Both of his hands slam down on the keys in a massive cacophony, while he jumps in shock at having two strong, tattooed arms wrap around him. "Rob?" he looks up. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in LA? How did you get into my house?"

Rob, still hugging him from behind. "I was. I came back. Thought I'd surprise you." He pauses. "And you gave me a key, remember?"

_Did I?_  Gary doesn't remember that. He narrows his eyes at Rob suspiciously. "Were you taking advantage of me when drunk to get a way in here?"

"...No?" says Rob, not very convincingly. Gary sighs. "Oh c'mon Gaz, I could have done worse things to ya. I mean, I still could. If you wanted me to." He flicks his tongue beneath Gary's ear teasingly.

Gary can't help but huff in irritation. Not that what Rob promises doesn't sound lovely, but: "I was working on something."

And Rob stops, his arms relinquishing their hold on Gary's body. "Oh. Were you?" he asks, his voice taking on a glum note. "Sorry."

Then Gary just feels guilty for upsetting him. He did spend most of the nineties shouting whenever Robbie got in the way of his music, after all. "No, it's fine." He gets up. "It was getting on my nerves anyway. C'mon, I'll make you a coffee."

Rob grins. Gary pauses. "Milk. I don't think you need any more caffeine."

 


	23. Gone to Jelly (All, T)

" _What did you do?!_ "

Robbie, understandably, lets out a noise of indignation. "I didn't do anything! Why do you immediately accuse me?" he pouts.

"Well you're the one who's always on about ghosts and aliens and things," says Gary, red with embarrassment for having to explain his predicament to them, and also still seething over it. "Besides, this is totally something you would do. I thought you'd put some kind of witch's spell on me just for a laugh!"

_Tactful, Gaz,_  thinks Jason. Rob huffs. "Well sure, I would of have done. But that doesn't mean I'd have any idea how."

Jason sighs. "Look, I don't think how this happened is really our biggest problem right now." Also, thinking about how this is even possible makes his head hurt. "The real question is: how can we fix this?"

Mark, bless him, can't stop sneaking glances toward Gary's crotch. "What's it made of at the moment?"

Gary's blush deepens, and he avoids their eye. "Jelly."

Howard poorly represses a snort. "Jelly, really?"

"Oh shut up." But even he can't repress a smile at how fitting that is. "It's bloody uncomfortable! All sticky. And I've ruined half my underwear. I only own six pairs!"

"Well, you said it changes when you come, right?" Howard asks. "That's easily fixed." He leans forward, wraps his hand around Gary's crotch, and-

_Squelch!_

Howard pulls back, staring at his hand, now wet and smelling distinctly of lemon. "Dougie, I appreciate you're trying to help, but please don't squash my dick in the process?" He sighs. "Trust me, if it was that easy I would have already done it."

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Howard looks to  _him_  for guidance. Jason takes a moment to think it over. "Well," he concludes, "there is another way."

"What?" Gary's face rapidly turns from red to white as he realises what that means. "No. Jay, no."

Rob grins. "Go on, Gaz, roll over!" he says. "You can hardly claim it's not on brand."

 


	24. Fever (Howard/Gary, T)

Gary doesn't show up for breakfast in the morning, that's the first worry. Usually Gaz is the first of them up, and by the time Howard stumbles half-dead into the studio kitchen he's chatting away eagerly (sycophantically, some might say) to Nigel. Of course Howard is the one volunteered to go find him. Of course it is. But it's not worth arguing about, and it isn't like he's not concerned about why Gaz is late too.

Seeing no reason not to start with the obvious, he knocks on Gary's hotel room door. "Gaz?"

"I'm fine!" Gary calls, which is a weird answer, because Howard didn't ask. He pushes the door open.

Gary is still in bed, the sheets a crumpled mess. He hears panting, shivering breaths. He might have thought he interrupted Gaz in the middle of a wank or something, but no, that's not it. "Gaz?" He perches next to him carefully on the bed, looking down at him: he's bright pink from hair to jaw, sheets tucked under his chin as his teeth chatter. "You sure you're alright, mate?"

"Fine," Gary repeats himself, unconvincingly. Howard presses a hand to his forehead, and almost yanks it away again.

"Bloody hell, you're burning up!" he says. "You wait there, I'll tell Nigel, he'll get a nurse or something."

"What? Doug, no, no, you can't!" Gary starts scrambling around, struggling to get up, but he looks like he barely knows which way is up. Eventually he collapses back onto the bed in exhaustion, and makes a sound disturbingly like a sob. "You can't tell him. I'm fine. I have to be fine."

Howard doesn't get it. "Um, why?"

"Everyone's counting on me!" Gary cries. "He'll be angry if I'm not up to scratch. I have to be there. I'll be downstairs soon, I promise, just don't..."

He trails off, and Howard sighs in annoyance. "Mate, they're going to notice," he says. "We're meant to be dancing today. You're bad enough at it at the best of times. Today, I'd be surprised if you can even stand up straight."

He shouldn't have said that. Of course Gary immediately tries to get up to prove him wrong, and of course as soon as he's even in a sitting position, he swoons. "Easy!" Howard catches him, feeling Gary's head lull against his shoulder. sweat soaking through his t-shirt. "Right. I won't tell Nigel if you don't want me to, but I'm getting a nurse. I won't have you drop dead on my watch."

Gary moans miserably. "Nige'll kill you for that."

Howard stops.  _So he will._  He wants to think Gary is being stupid and paranoid to think Nige will throw a fit if he misses one day of work in the past five years because he's at death's door, but he isn't sure. "You let me worry about him," which is definitely signing himself up for something he shouldn't. "You need rest."

"You did a whole show with a broken finger," Gary murmurs.

So he did. Is that why Gaz is acting like this? Because Howard's set the bar too high? Because he thinks that's what show business requires, forcing yourself to work even when you really can't? He is obsessive like that.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself," he whispers.

But it's no use, Gaz has nodded off.  _Bloody hell, he is sick._  Gently, he guides Gary back onto the pillows, tucks the sheets beneath his chin. He does look sweet when he's asleep. Not so bloody stressed.

_Nurse. Now. Focus._

With an groan, Howard gets up.

 


	25. Handyman (Gary/Mark, E)

"I like your hands."  
  
On its own, it could be just an ordinary compliment, the sort Mark drops into conversation every once in a while because, well, it's Mark, and he never saw a reason not to brighten someone's day if he could. And Gary likes his hands too. He's usually pretty insecure about his body (to be fair, when you're in a band with guys like Jason and Howard, it's hard not to be), but he has always thought his hands were nice, square and strong and elegantly shaped - and, not that he'd say so aloud, but he has found  _some_  use for them after all.  
  
So the first time Mark uses that line on him, over breakfast at some cheap B&B, Gary just smiles, thanks him, and thinks no more about it.  
  
Once he says it when they're already in bed though, that's a bit different.  
  
_Um. Okay._  Gary's not quite sure how to take it, but Mark is already moaning and writhing as Gary crooks three fingers inside him, so it probably doesn't matter. He's getting off on what Gary's, that's all, and really, Gary is glad to know.  
  
He pushes his fingers in a little deeper, rubbing against that spot Mark seems to like the best. Mark gives a choked cry. "Gaz, more!"  
  
"You want me to fuck you now?" Gary asks, because he is at heart a simple lad, and also his cock is aching. That must be what Mark wants, right?  
  
But Mark shakes his head, with a meaningful glance between his spread thighs where Gary's hand enters him. " _More_."  
  
Gary blinks. "...Like, another finger?" Mark nods and bites his lip. Gary gives his hole a questioning look. Mark is so small, and he already feels stretched tight around Gary's three fingers. Is another one really going to fit?  
  
You never know until you try, though.  
  
His pinky actually slips in remarkably easily, helped by the generous amount of lube already spread all over Mark's hole. Mark groans, long and deep, and his legs twitching and spreading even wider. Curious, Gary splays his fingers apart, testing just how far Mark can go.  
  
Mark gasps and grabs his shoulder. "Gaz, more."  
  
Then Gary puts it together, figures out what Mark really wants from him. "What, really?" he asks.  
  
Mark nods. "I like your hands."  
  
Well, yes, but: "Is that even possible?" He knows Mark is more experienced than him, but he can't imagine his whole hand could fit up Mark's tiny little arse. He doesn't want to break him! Imagine what the press would make of that one?  
  
Mark laughs, and Gary turns pink. Well, at least Mark seems to find his naivete endearing. "Trust me, Gaz, I know what I'm doing."  
  
Feeling no ability to refuse, Gary rummages for the lube with his other hand, practically emptying the bottle onto the thumb digging into Mark's arse. "Are you ready?" he asks, heart thumping in his chest.  
  
And he gets one of Mark's trademark grins, the ones that look like they're made of pure sunshine. " _So_  ready."  
  
With a sigh, Gary tries to add his thumb. Mark moans in - pleasure, he thinks? "Keep going," Mark urges, and so Gary does, but he doesn't really get it until-  
  
His whole hand disappears.  
  
"Oh fuck," Mark gasps.  
  
_Oh fuck._  
  
So that's what Mark wanted.  
  
So that's what  _he_  wanted.


	26. Click (Mark, Robbie, G)

“Rob? ...I thought you were on tour?”  
  
The breath on the other end of the line is too fast, panicked, hyperventilating. “Yeah, I am. They'll call me on stage soon, I don't have long. But I need to talk to someone. You. I need to talk to you.”  
  
Mark swallows a lump in his throat, avoids the thought that Rob only calls when he needs him. “What do you want to talk about?”  
  
“Anything! How are you? How's your day been?”  
  
“Oh. Well. Not done much. Spent some time in London, that was nice. Working on–”  
  
 _Click._


	27. Chaps (Jason/Howard, E)

"This isn't fair," Howard moans, bent over a bathroom sink in - Berlin, are they right now? "Oh fuck, Jay."

Jason smiles to himself, not answering at first, but pushing what little remains of Howard's clothing out of the way so he can drag his tongue along the crack between his cheeks. "That's what you get for having such a pretty little arse," he whispers, breath ghosting over Howard's skin, and he feels the shudder.

"This was your sodding idea," Howard whines, and Jason pauses. In all honesty, he doesn't remember whose idea it was now. "Why should I have to come in my pants onstage just because you're all bloody perverts?"

Jason also doesn't answer that, simply sticks his tongue deep in Howard's hole, cleans him from the inside out. Howard quickly stops complaining.


	28. Sports Psychology (Gary/Howard, M)

“That's a massage. You're offering me a massage. Don't we have actual masseuses for that?”  
  
“Nah, it's different,” Howard insists, but does not elaborate on how. Gary sighs. He loves Howard, really, but Howard on a health kick is even more ridiculous than  _him_  on a health kick. “It's meant to loosen your body up, keep your muscles relaxed. C'mon, you need all the helping dancing you can get.”  
  
Gary snorts. “I thought we'd established by now there is no helping my dancing,” he says. “And that's still just a bloody massage.”  
  
Howard grins at him. “Well its worked on me, hasn't it?” And to prove his point, he lifts his shirt up shamelessly. Gary ogles a bit, and then grumbles and averts his eyes.  
  
“You're practically a granddad, how do you still look like that?” he asks, and Howard smacks him upside the head. Gary sighs. Alright, maybe How flashing him was a bit more persuasive than it ought to be. “Fine, if it means that much to you.”  
  
Howard's grin widens. “You won't regret this, Gaz.” And you know, he's probably right. He still doesn't see the point, but he does always enjoy a nice massage.  
  
...Of course, by the time he ends up with his legs wrapped around Howard's waist, strong fingers digging into the flesh of his arse and making him moan, he starts to wonder if Howard had ulterior motives of his own. But well, fair play to him.


	29. Sugar Sweet (Jason/Howard, T)

“Oh, bloody hell.”  
  
Jason watches with faint amusement as Howard tries to scrape some of the lingering jelly from between his cheeks with his hands. “You right there, mate?”  
  
“Hmm?” Howard looks back over his shoulder. He seems surprised, but not concerned at all, to be walked in on bollock naked. “Yeah, fine. Sticky, but fine.”  
  
“Aren't we all?” Jason has a towel slung modestly around his waist, and looks longingly toward the shower.  
  
“Where are the others, anyway?”  
  
Jason snorts. “Gaz I think is looking for the shattered pieces of his dignity. Mark and Rob are probably still playing in the jelly.” Howard laughs. It does sound like them. “Really, I hope we do get banned for all this trouble.”  
  
“I'm blaming you for this,” Howard says.  
  
“Hey, hey. You bought the jackets with me. You're as much a part of this as anyone.” Honestly, Jason doesn't remember whose idea it was now, but they're all in it together. If 'it' is a pile of jelly and whipped cream.  
  
“Yeah, well, can you blame me?” Howard asks. “It suits you.” He pauses. “Everything suits you.”  
  
Jason is struck dumb, stupidly, more flattered than he ought to be by such a tiny joke. “You can talk,” he mutters, eyeing the block of red caught in Howard's silver nipple ring, but he doesn't think Howard hears him.  
  
“Anyway, which of us is gonna hop in the shower first?” Howard asks.  
  
Instinctively. “What, we're not gonna share?”  
  
Maybe he shouldn't have said that, but Howard laughs it off. “Don't tell Nige, he'd want that to be our next video. And I don't think we'd all fit. Best keep it between the two of us, yeah?”  
  
Jason is starting to grow uncomfortably hot under the collar, not that he has a collar to hide it under. “You go on ahead, How,” he says, ignoring the voice that tries to tell him Howard looks a bit disappointed in that answer. “I'll see if I can round the others up.”  
  
Howard shrugs. “Fine.” And as he turns the water on and steps, fully naked, under the spray, Jason steals one last glimpse of his jelly-covered body.


	30. String Theory (Jason/Robbie, G)

_Who just sends someone a banjo?_

When he thinks about it a little longer, Jason sighs. He knows one person who would absolutely just send someone a banjo.

No, he's being ridiculous. He and Rob are barely in touch again - he apologised for getting Rob fired, Rob apologised for being such a prat to him all the time. But that's all. They're not friends again, if they ever were. Robb's not just going to send him a gift out of nowhere.

But who else could it be?

Torn with frustration, Jason opens his wallet and looks at the number he took down on a torn scrap of paper (he still stubbornly refuses to get a mobile, although he knows he'll have to soon). He thought he wasn't going to use it. It would be easy enough to ignore it, to pretend the mysterious gift never happened, to block out the voice at the back of his head wondering who it's from. It could easily be from some fan; they've sent madder things. But Jason knows he's fooling himself.

He's trying to be less of a coward this time around. He's trying to make things right.

Paper in hand he walks downstairs to the phone, dials Rob's number. He's surprised it is Rob's voice that greets him, not a PA. "Jay?" he sounds too excited to hear him.

"Hi Rob," says Jason. "How you been?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Alright." It's hard to fill people in on your life when your every move is being followed by the press. Jason remembers that feeling. He knows Robbie is rarely if ever  _alright_ , but he wants to let that slide.

"I got a present in the mail this morning," he says. "A banjo."

There's silence.

"Huh. That's weird," says Rob, flat and unconvincing.

Really, that tells Jason everything he needs to know, but he might as well confirm it: "Was it you?"

"...Yeah," Rob confesses. "Did I get it right? It was pretty expensive, you know. It's totally an original, used by - um, some famous country player. Like, I would have gotten you flowers, but that seemed a bit much. And you always loved that guitar of yours so much--"

"You noticed that?" Jason asks. He knows Howard used to tell him he was cute when practicing his guitar, but Rob was always so busy taking the piss out of him for everything, you'd think he'd have no idea. Then again, maybe Jason was wrong about him. Maybe he was wrong about him all along.

"Yeah?" Rob sounds confused. "I always knew you loved guitar. I thought, I am a popstar, and I do owe you something nice." A pause. "Did I get it wrong?"

"Oh, no, no," he says. "If anything, I'm flattered you dipped into your eighty million for me." He should be careful about teasing, but it feels different now. Everything feels different between him and Rob, without Nigel always breathing down their necks, making them fight not to be last in his favour. Rob laughs it off. "But I don't actually know how to play banjo. You might have overestimated my abilities."

"Oh come on, you're so clever," Rob says without missing a beat. "It's just strings on a bit of wood. How different could it be?"

Jason raises an eyebrow. "I hope you realise I now have the right to ask for lessons."

"Oh, I could do that!" Another pause. "I mean, if you want me to. And if I'm in the country. And not in rehab. No pressure."

"No, no," says Jason, softly. "I'd like that."

He thinks he can hear Rob's grin on the other end of the line. "Really?"

He can't help grinning himself. "Really."

 


	31. Yellow (Gary, All, T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For explanation: this was based on a prompt where people's sexual position is based on their hair colour, and blondes always bottom. Okay, here goes.

"What? Come on, I'm not  _blonde_. It's light brown!"  
  
Howard, with his head full of perfectly coiffed dark curls, laughs at him. "Close enough, mate. Besides, I think Nige wants you to dye it lighter anyway. Y'know, clear up the ambiguity."  
  
Gary makes an alarmed noise. "That's not fair!"  
  
"Sorry, Gaz." Mark's small hand comes and knead hid shoulder comfortingly. "If it makes you feel better, I think he wants me to go blonde as well.  
  
Mark pulls a face and Gary pouts. Mark at least looks like he should be the blonde of their group.  
  
"Relax, it's all marketing," Jason contributes from across the room, hear still half-buried in his book. "You don't actually have to do anything."  
  
"Yeah!" Rob adds cheerfully. "You don't have to bend over and share your pretty blonde arse with the lot of us unless you  _really_  want to."  
  
Gary throws a pillow at him. "Shut up!" Really, the way Robbie says it makes it sound not half-bad, and that's not something he wants to think about at all. "Oh, I bet this is oh so easy for you to laugh at, Mr. Hair as Black as Ebony. You have no idea what I'm going through!"  
  
While he rants, Jason rolls his eyes. "God, you're so from Frodsham."  
  
"...I don't see what that has to do with anything." Now he's wondering about some of the looks he used to get playing the working men's clubs back home, but now doesn't seem a good time to bring it up.  
  
Jason snaps his book shut with a sigh. "Nevermind. We should clear out, let you get some sleep. Promise Gaz, you'll feel better in the morning."  
  
As they get up to leave, Howard gives him a look. "Listen Gaz, don't worry. Nige likes you. Just talk to him about not wanting to bleach your hair." He pauses. "Or anything else, for that matter."  
  
"What?"  
  
Jason nudges Howard in the ribs. "Don't How, he's scandalised enough as is."


	32. A Near Run Thing (All, T)

"Oh c'mon, surely the assless chaps clinched it."

"Eh," says Mark. "I mean, they're worth something, but I think you underestimate just how many photos I took posing like a rentboy. Besides, I think the dreads did a lot to stop people actually wanting to fuck you."

A pillow goes flying across the room just as Gary enters. "Should I ask?"

"We're debating who's the sluttiest member of the band," Jay tells him with an amused smirk. "Want to help us?"

Gary blinks.  _Not worth it._  "No thank you," he says, taking off his coat. "If anyone needs me, I'll be at my piano."

"Aww, Gaz, don't sulk," Rob says. "Just because you're the prude of the band doesn't mean you can't join in."

Gary sighs, looking back over his shoulder. "I guess you've got a strong case?"

Rob grins. "Hey, you lot only stripped naked on film. I stripped down to the bone!"

"That's not quite the same thing," Jay says. "And to be fair Gaz, you have snogged half of us."

"Hey, hey, that's not fair," says Gary. "You two both snogged me!"

"Yeah, and you seemed to like it," Howard points out. "Nevermind the faces you pulled when that girl had a fork at your throat."

Gary turns pink. "It doesn't seem right to decide it by who did what in videos anyway. Just 'cause I'm not as skinny as you lot. I'm sure we've done sluttier things in our own lives."

Rob raises an eyebrow. "What, like being accused of shagging the manager?"

Gary slams his fingers down on the keys.

 


	33. Song and Molly (Robbie/Gary, T)

"You're high."  
  
Rob is lying on his back in a gay club in Spain, and it must be admitted, high as a fucking kite. "Yeah?" His eyes drift hazily up to see Gary standing over him, with his usual pissy look on his face. It makes him giggle. "The show's long over, mate. Why aren't you?"  
  
Gaz doesn't answer him, instead rolling his eyes a touch too slowly for Rob to think he's one hundred per cent sober. He kicks Rob's feet out of the way so he can take up half the couch. "Do you know where the others are?" he asks. "We ought to get back to the hotel, I've got a song to work on."  
  
With a loud groan, Rob buries his feet back in Gaz's lap. "Would you chill out?" he says, mind swimming looking up into the dim lights. "Nige isn't here, he's not going to catch you if you're not working for one night."  
  
Gary doesn't say anything, just huffs. Rob sneaks a glance at him from beneath his lashes. Usually, he'd find Gary's being a bitch annoying, but now it's just cute. That must be the drugs talking. Still, it makes him want to help Gaz calm down a bit.  
  
He presses his foot further down Gary's thigh. "They're probably off having a dance." Mark's as high as he is, he knows that, and he wouldn't be surprised if Jay and How were as well - he's not going to tell Gaz that, though. He laughs again. "We should go join them."  
  
Gary gives him a dubious look. "I've danced enough tonight, thank you."  
  
"Proper dancing, not 'choreographed routine because you have to' dancing."  
  
He must be getting somewhere, because Gary's cheeks turn pink. "You know I can't dance," he mutters.  
  
"Neither can this lot!" Rob gestures vaguely at the blokes all around them, bumping and grinding and also probably high off their tits. "Doesn't stop 'em having a good time. You should chill out, Gaz."  
  
Gary looks torn about that, and Rob, more impulsive than usual, leans up to pull him down by his wrist. "Ack!"  
  
He laughs as Gary collapses on top of him. "Careful mate, try not to squash me."  
  
Gary tries to pull himself up in a huff, which is even cuter, him getting all annoyed as he finds himself between Rob's legs. "This is - you did that, you - I swear, if I tell Nigel-"  
  
That should make Rob mad, but he can't help giggling about it, about Gary thinking he has any power here. Rob feels on top of the world, Gary can't bring him down. He wants to kiss Gary's ear. So he does just that.  
  
It doesn't help Gary calm down. He gasps like a fucking romance novel heroine. "Rob, what are you - someone will see us!"  
  
And Rob is laughing again, laughing at just how important Gaz thinks he is. "C'mon, we're in Spain, no-one even knows who we are. Your career is safe." Gary makes a high-pitched sound that could be protest, could just be because Rob is sucking on his earlobe, like this is totally normal and not something even he wouldn't do without the drugs. "Hey, I'll help you." He's being stupid, but he goes rummaging through his pocket, remembering what he took just in case.  
  
Gary's eyes go wide as he spots the small pink pill, cut in half. "Rob, you can't! I know you're seventeen, you've not done this before - do you even know what's in that?!"  
  
"It's not for me, you idiot," Rob tells him, and knees him gently. "Open up."  
  
Gary gawps at him, but close enough. When Rob pops the pill in his mouth, he swallows willingly, and Rob bursts out laughing, kissing him on the cheek.


	34. Throat Exercise (Gary/Robbie, M)

One thing Gary's always done is looked after his throat.  
  
He has to, as a singer, keep it in tip-top condition and never do anything to put his voice at risk. That's only become more important since he joined the band. They're all counting on him, after all.  
  
That doesn't explain all this.  
  
"Come on, Gaz," says Rob, across the floor of a cheap, grimy hotel room, fly undone and halfway to pulling his dick out. "Are you just gonna stand there all night?" His hands are shaking with nerves, like he doesn't have a fucking clue what they're doing either.  
  
Gary approaches him slowly, but doesn't bother to kiss him before sinking to his knees. He licks his lips.  _I want to do it,_  he thinks as Rob anxiously readies himself, like he's afraid Gary's going to change his mind.  
  
He don't half have good reasons to change his mind. He knows this is stupid, and reckless, and dangerous. Still, he opens his mouth and closes his eyes, while Rob clutches his hair and, with teenage eagerness, thrusts deep down his throat, far enough to make him gag.  
  
And fuck, that's something new entirely.


	35. Waterlogged (Jason/Howard, G)

The press conference is a nightmare, like Jason expected. They don't know how to do this anymore, none of them do. They come off-stage feeling ragged and worn-down, not like a band at all, and Jason wonders how on earth they think they can pull this off.  
  
He's half-wondering if he can make a break for it, leave the rest of them to it, when-  
  
"Out. Everybody out."  
  
James and Paul, who of course came right back for them, are shepherding everybody, the journalists and paparazzi, out of the room in a hurry. Jason looks around, not sure what's going on, afraid there might be a fire or something like that, and then he spots it:  
  
Howard.  
  
He's collapsed against the wall, knees beneath his chin, holding himself. He's crying. Jason's heart hurts. Howard always cried so easily, and that hasn't changed.  
  
Instinctively, Jason darts to his side, wraps his arms around him. He still remembers how to do that. "Hey, hey, it's alright," he whispers, pulling Howard in to sniff against his shoulder. He does understand. It's not easy for Howard, being put on show and having people poke and pry at some of the most painful moments in his life (and Jason is still angry at himself he didn't  _know_  what happened on the Thames). It's not easy for any of them. "Everything's going to be okay."  
  
Howard leans into him. Out of the corner of his eye Jason can see Gaz and Mark give each other pained looks, but with no offense to them, he ignores it for now. He holds Howard close and kisses his hair. He's not going anywhere, not now. He's staying by Howard's side.


	36. Overdone (Jason/Gary/Howard, T)

So, Gaz didn't use to drink before he was in the band.  
  
Jason thinks he understands why.  
  
He sighs when he spots their bandmate stumped haphazardly over the hotel bar. "Come on," he says, and nudges Howard - who happens to be helpfully by his side; he doesn't even want to know where Mark and Rob have gotten to - in the ribs. "Let's get him back to your room."  
  
Howard doesn't say anything, but nods and goes along with his plan, as concerned for Gary's welfare as anybody. Jason's sure Gaz hasn't actually drunk that much, but the boy from Frodsham's tolerance isn't that great. It's enough to make him wonder if someone didn't slip something into Gary's drink, which is as good a reason to get him back to his hotel room where Howard can keep an eye on him as any.  
  
Gaz whines as they both scoop an arm under each of his own. "I'm not that heavy!" he insists, staggering and leaning against Howard's shoulder. Jason sighs. That's something they can worry about in the morning.  
  
He goes along with them surprisingly easily though, which can be contributed to him being half-asleep. They trudge into the lift, and Jason can't help but smile as he watches Gary lean against Howard's shoulder, clinging to his hips for balance.  
  
Then they have to hop out again, and they carefully position Gaz's lax, drunken body between their own. Gary groans, and starts leaning into Howard's neck, nuzzling it, even, while one hand slips precariously from Jason's waist to his arse.  
  
Jason hitches him up anxiously, realising just how out of it his bandmate is. "Easy there, Gaz," he says. "Let's get you into bed."  
  
"Want to go to bed with me, do you Jay?" Gary drawls, and Jason turns red. He's used to Gary being the embarrassed one.  
  
Meanwhile, Howard laughs. "Maybe when you're sober, mate," he says, like there's a chance Gary would be anywhere near this forward if he was sober. He pulls Gaz against him tighter, hand curling over his waist possessively, and not seeming to mind at all how drunk Gary's hand makes circles over his abs and occasionally squeezes at his pecs.  
  
After far too long, they finally stop outside Howard and Gary's door. "Thanks mate," Howard nods at him, with his semi-conscious best friend slumped against his chest.  
  
"No problem," he says, relinquishing Gaz to Howard's clutches and heading back to his room, but with the lingering feeling he's been denied something.


	37. PDA (Robbie/Gary, T)

Cuddling was part of the schtick from the beginning. Nigel always told them,  _do try and look like you’re friends,_  and admittedly, they wound up looking like they were a bit more than friends - but Rob always found it nice, lying curled between Mark and Gary’s laps in interviews, having a bunch of lads who’d put their arms around him, and no-one would think twice about it.

And then he started to realise how bullshit it all was.

That realisation crept up on him slowly, drowned out by the booze and coke a lot of the time, but he couldn’t avoid it forever. The boys didn’t love him, not really, they were just doing their job. Gaz in particular never gave a shit about anything but himself. He could duck against Rob’s chest to hide from a champagne attack one day and slag off his attempts at songwriting on the phone the next, because Gary was never doing anything but playing a role, playing him, like he plays his fucking piano.

It’s not even a surprise when one night they’re practically sat in each other’s laps while out for dinner with some fan who won something, and the next day they’re kicking him out.

When he next sees Gary, it’s at the Concert of Hope, and instinctively, on stage for the whole world to see, he goes to hold him and kiss his cheek.

Gary hugs him back, and Rob feels that warm surge of affection, the one he always used to feel with the boys’ cuddling him, before everything got so fucked up.

But he reminds himself, none of that meant anything then. So it sure doesn’t now.


	38. Bassline (Robbie/Gary, T)

“I should probably be getting back to the others,” Gary muses, half-asleep atop Rob’s chest. “We are meant to be working. Technically I’m only here playing you our latest track.”

Rob wraps his arm tighter around Gary’s shoulder, possessive, while he laughs. “Pretty sure they knew exactly what we were sneaking off for, mate. What else would all that thumping be?”

“Bass?”

They both giggle, until Gary lets out a sleepy, content sigh across his nipple. Rob runs his tattooed fingers down Gary’s arm. They’ve barely even spoken for fifteen years, and yet now here they are, in bed together, and it just feels… easy. Robbie hasn’t felt this relaxed in years.

“If I was still in the band, you could take me back with you.”

Suddenly, Gary looks up. “Would you?” he asks, with genuine uncertainty. “Come back?”

Rob hesitates. Even now all this is buried, he’s sure there are reasons, he couldn’t, shouldn’t. Reasons it could damage him again. What doesn’t fucking damage  _him_?

But with Gaz looking at him like that, like he’s the sun and moon, the star he wanted to be and then became, but never felt like, he can’t imagine what they could be.

“Sure,” he whispers. “Why not?”

Gary grins, and reaches up to give him a sweet, simple kiss.


	39. Preshow (Jason/Howard, G)

“Deep breaths, Dougie.”

It’s a panicked, adrenaline-fueled moment, gasping breaths lost amongst the cacophony of a show in preparation. Tears still trace down Howard’s cheeks. Everyone else moves around them, just assuming they’ll get out there okay. Jason’s veins pulse with whatever they’ve shot into him to keep him going.

Gently, he cups Howard’s jaw, leans their heads together. They’re almost close enough to kiss, but not quite. “Well be just fine, you’ll see,” he says, throat and back aching. “It’ll be the best concert we’ve ever done.”

Recovering himself a little, Howard snorts. “It’s the first concert we’ve ever done.”

Jason grins. “Exactly.” He leans up to kiss Howard’s brow, and he thinks it’s going to be okay.


	40. Audience (Jason/Robbie, G)

Jason wakes to the tinny sound of a YouTube video playing from a phone. It’s not something he’s familiar with. “What are you watching?”

Rob jumps a bit to realise he’s awake, but answers without hesitation. “The others. They’ve just started their tour. Gaz sent me the video.”

Jason wriggles up the bed, leaning on Rob’s shoulder, taking a curious peek. The clip was shot by someone in the audience, the focus isn’t great, but still, Jason notes how good his bandmates - his former bandmates - look on stage together. It looks… neat.

Robbie plays with his hair absent-mindedly. “Do you ever miss it?”

Jason flinches. “No.” He never liked being public property, having everyone know everything about him - Robbie Williams, the superstar, bonded with him over that more than once.

And yet…

He looks at the video again, and sighs. “I do miss them, though.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rob and him share a look. Perhaps it’s not a surprise, that they’ve wound up here together in the end. While the others carry on the story of their band, they wait at the sides, not a part of it and yet, they could never not be a part of it.


	41. Squashville (Gary/Jason, G)

Gary did not know they made planes this small, but he doesn’t want to complain. He’s also not that sure how it wound up being Jay he’s sidled next to, but he can feel the other boy’s pulse thumping beneath his ear and well, Gary really ought to try and distract him a bit, given what Jay’s usually like about flying (Gary’s not thrilled with it himself).

“My arm’s going numb.”

He looks up as Jason shifts, arm pushing up over his shoulders and wrapping around his neck, pushing them even closer together, like a lover’s embrace.

They both break into giggles.

Gary feels comfortable like this, despite the ridiculous cramped position, and the fact it’s making him a little bit hot under the collar. He rests his flushed cheek against Jason’s chest, and lets him fuss with his hair anxiously.

It’s just because the plane is so bloody small they’re doing this. And if Gary is enjoying it more than he really ought to be, well, who’s counting?


	42. Strange Situations (Jason/Gary, T)

Depending on how you think about it, it's either Howard's fault for drawing the short straw for once and having to room with Nigel, or Nigel's fault for shouting at them to get back onto the bus before Jason was done chatting up that girl at the club. Not that he thought he was actually going to go to bed with her, mind, but having things called to a close so abruptly has left him tense.

And apparently he is still young enough that all that tension is surfacing in one specific way.

It's a relief to get back to the hotel room, except: "You alright, Jay?" Gary, who he's stuck with for now, asks after him. Jason supposes he is acting a bit off.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just-" he sighs. His erection doesn't seem to be going away any time soon, and he supposes, they have all seen each other naked and wrestled in jelly together, this isn't that much stranger. He turns around with an apologetic look. Gary eyes the bulge in his trousers, and his cheeks go pink. "Sorry. I was going to head to the bathroom and take care of it-"

"No, wait," says Gary, before Jason has the chance to think through how he's going to get down the corridor without anyone else noticing. There's a pause, and Gary looks him up and down. "I could give you a hand, if you like?"

Jason is flummoxed. If there was one of his bandmates he did not expect to offer him a handjob out of nowhere...

"I'm not gay," Gary insists quickly, which is funny, because Jason didn't get time to think he was. "Just, you know, we are bandmates. We're always in hotel rooms together. Why not, right?"

Jason can't help but crack a smile, and quirks his head to the side curiously. "Has this happened before, Gaz?"

Gary's blush deepens. "Well, me and Howard..." Jason almost frowns. Maybe he's being petty, but if you'd expect any of them to have hooked up with Howard, it'd be him. "Mostly with Howard. Once with Mark. Not with Rob, funny." He frowns.

It's hard for Jason to smother a laugh. He's probably being unfair, but Gaz seems to have a bit more experience than you'd expect for someone who's only doing this because they're trapped in a hotel together. "I see."

"So, do you want to or not?"

Maybe this is a bad idea, but Jason has to admit, the idea of using his own hand when someone else is offering doesn't thrill him. And, he's strangely intrigued by the thought of prudish Gary offering him sex (although he's certain that whatever Gaz is planning, he'd insist it doesn't count as  _sex_ ) so easily.

And he has no problems admitting he's less than one hundred per cent straight.

"Yeah, alright." Gary grins far too widely for someone who's only offering a hand, and before long, he's pressed tight against Jason's body, breath warming his neck.

His hand traces Jason's abs through his t-shirt, and he gasps shallowly. "I'm not gay," he repeats.

Jason smiles to himself. "I never said you were."

There's a pause. "Right," says Gaz. Then his hand heads below Jason's waistband, and frankly, Jason doesn't much care what he is.

 


	43. Subtext (Howard/Gary, T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure that's the most accurate summary of the pairing here, but idek, really.

"Someone has to talk to him."

Howard pulls a face. "Do we? Really?" Because he's pretty sure when Jay says 'someone', he means  _him_ , as Gaz's officially designated best friend. But be that as it may, that doesn't mean he wants to be on the receiving end of Gaz's temper when someone points out the lyrics he's been writing might not be about what he thinks they're about. Howard loves him, but Gary's a grumpy bastard and a bit of a prude, and that's not an ideal combination.

"Gaz's subconscious has gotten us pretty far, y'know," Robbie points out. "We might be fucking the golden goose here."

"I don't think there's any problem with us alluding to sex. I mean, I know what band we're in," Jay says, which is good, given they're currently wearing enough shirt for three people between the five of them (and they really ought to wind up this backstage talk before Gaz gets back from chatting up record execs at the bar). "But I'd be more comfortably with it if I thought Gaz knew what he was doing, and it wasn't just all his sexual frustration boiling over."

Mark leans forward curiously. "Has he done it at all before?" he asks, looking at Howard because, well, who else would know?

Howard shrugs uncomfortably. "He says he has." Howard doesn't really believe him, but he's not going to say that out loud. Gary is still his friend, which probably makes gossiping about his sex life behind his back like this not great, but oh well.

"Well that settles it then!" Rob grins. "Someone has to go corrupt him as much as he's clearly dying for."

Robbie is much too barely legal to be talking like that, but Howard doesn't get to respond before Mark interjects again. "I mean, I don't particularly mind singing about tasting love or being held down or asking someone to do what they want with me." Perhaps unfairly, Howard thinks  _of course you don't, mate_. "But it would probably be in everyone's best interests if Gaz was actually getting laid instead. He is a bit uptight."

Howard can't really argue with that. The others all share a look of agreement, and he's pretty sure he's lost the argument. He sighs. "Fine, I'll talk to him," he says. "But if he rips my head off, I'm coming back and haunting the bloody lot of you."

And, as footsteps come down the corner telling them Gary is coming back, Rob laughs. "Oh, come off it Dougie. I've seen the way he looks at your body. Chances are, you say a word and he'll jump your bones."

Mark titters while Howard looks away shyly. "Shut up."

The door swings open. "What's up, lads?"

Howard looks back up. The others all stare at him expectantly, but he waits for one to pipe up, to help him out. They don't.  _Twats._

Hesitantly, he wraps a friendly arm around Gary's shoulders. "Listen, mate, about tonight's song..."

 


	44. Comedown (Robbie/Mark, T)

Drunkenly, Rob burrows his head in Mark’s lap, vision blurring as he gazes across the white sheets. This small, spartan hotel room seems to stretch on into infinity. Fitting, really.

“You’re not really going to go, are you?” asks Mark, clinging to him desperately. “I know everyone’s mad, but they’ll get over it. You can’t just leave. I need you.”

Rob shrugs noncommittally.  _Yes, I’m going._ He has to go, else it’s going to kill him. He loves Mark, or at least remembers he should, but that’s not enough anymore.

Still, he don’t say anything, and lets Mark pretend a bit longer.

Mark will be better off without him anyway.


	45. Backseat Driver (Gary/Howard, T)

“We’re going to have to leave soon.”

Howard pulls a face. “Yeah, I know,” he says, but he does not lift himself off Gary, indeed he kisses him again and squirms his hips against Gary’s. “It’s too bloody cold though. I’m not giving up this body heat for nothing.”

Gary chuckles, even with Howard sucking on his bottom lip. “It’d be warmer if you’d start the engine, put the radiator back on.” But he shouldn’t talk, winding his arms around Howard’s back, pulling him in closer. Making out in the backseat like a couple of teenagers shouldn’t be this exciting, but what is he meant to do about it?

Howard nips his bottom lip. “Yeah, but are we about to do that?” And Gary laughs. They’re not leaving for awhile.


	46. Watershed (Robbie/Gary, G)

This isn’t happening.

That’s the only way Rob can make sense of it; it’s been over ten years since he even talked to Gary, but he remembers him and if there’s one thing he’d never, ever do, it’s cry, in front of him anyways.

“Gaz…” They’re alone in a hotel room, and he knows the others shouldn’t have just left them there because Gary could have kept it together, if he wasn’t trapped with Rob and no-one else. All the years are hitting him, here and now.  _I’m the one who did this to him,_  Rob thinks with a flicker of guilt.

“Hey, hey.” Unthinking, he leans in to Gary’s body and pulls him in, lets him sniffle against his shoulder. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

Strange enough, for all the years he hated Gaz, this comes naturally.


	47. Warming (All, G)

“I’m cold.”

Gary peeks up from his spot settled with his head in Howard’s lap. “You wouldn’t be if you didn’t insist on going out in the snow, idiot,” he says, not sure why anyone would leave this nice cozy fire for anything.

Rob just grins at him. “Well I’m here now, aren’t I? So move.” Gary gets shoved roughly to the side as Rob takes up the space next to him.

Meanwhile Mark, who just came in with Rob, is shaking his hair dry like a dog. “You look freezing,” says Jay.

“I’m fine,” Mark insists, but within seconds he’s being manhandled in front of the fire. He goes along with it.

“How, make some room, yeah?”

Howard groans. “Must I?” Gary chuckles against his thigh.

“Lazy sod.”

Howard flicks his ear petulantly, before squirming so Jay can settle behind his back, one arm draped over his shoulders. While Mark leans into Jay’s neck, Rob immediately grabs his feet and pulls them into his lap. He’s still grinning.

Gary eyes him suspiciously. “You two have been up to something,” he declares. “Am I going to find a reindeer in my room tonight?”

Rob pauses, then grins wider as he looks at him. “Well, you weren’t going to. Great idea though!”

Gary rolls his eyes, and Jason chuckles affectionately. “Should we enjoy the peace while it lasts then?”

He snuggles deeper into Howard’s lap. It is, admittedly, a nice moment.


	48. Summery (Howard/Mark, E)

To be fair on him, getting sucked off in public while on a beach in Mexico is exactly the sort of thing you'd expect from pop stars. Well, maybe not them, because they're meant to be the nice boys you could take home to mum, but still.

Exactly who's sucking him off is also a bit unusual.

"Shh," Mark pulls of him to whisper as Howard moans and clutches his soft chestnut hair. His blue eyes twinkle. "Don't let the others hear you. They might get jealous."

Howard isn't sure he gets that - why would they care? - but Mark's tongue is tracing his length all the way up the vein, making his knees knock together, so it don't matter.  _I hope I don't break this bloody statue,_  he thinks, leaning back against the coarse stone.

While he laps at Howard's cock with his tongue, taking his balls into his mouth and sucking them briefly, one of Mark's hands reaches up and runs across his oiled torso. "I've wanted to do this for ages," he whispers. "Since that time on the bus. I couldn't stop looking at you then." He pauses, then chuckles fondly. "Think Rob was a bit cross with me for that."

Howard bites his lip to repress a noise, prick twitching urgently and hips bucking forward against his will. "Fuck, please," he gasps as loudly as he dares, and Mark grins before swallowing him proper again.

He's starting to feel like he's melting, wet with sweat and oil and baking in the sun, keening into Mark's mouth, barely hidden by the statue he's meant to be shooting behind. Mark's hands slide around his arse, grabbing him and guiding him in further, until he can hear Mark's throat  _glug_. And just when he's processing that, all of a sudden there's two wet fingers between his cheeks, testing and teasing his arsehole.

Howard barely represses a scream, and stares down in shock. That was a mistake though. Just a look, one look at Mark's sweet, cherubic face sucking him down to the root, cherub cheeks hollowed around his cock, and then he's coming, hard and with a loud cry he can only hope sounds like some sort of exotic bird call.

He doesn't even manage to warn Mark, which he wants to apologise for, but Mark swallows so easily that: no harm, no foul. He helps Howard back into his shorts, but before Howard can offer to return the favour he's already talking: "I better go. I think they wanted me down on the beach twenty minutes ago."

"So that's why you're always late," Howard snorts, and Mark smiles. "Hang on, you've got..." with his thumb, he reaches out and wipes a shiny patch from the corner of Mark's mouth - not come, like you might expect, but baby oil.

"Thanks," Mark grins at him, beautiful as ever.

"No problem," says Howard. "We don't want the others catching on, right?"

Mark shrugs. "I mean, I don't see what we have to be ashamed of," he says. "The video's meant to make people want to fuck us. Clearly, it worked!"

They both laugh.


	49. Fulfillment (Jason/Gary, T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context warning: implied/referenced eating disorders.

“How’s it going, Gaz?”

“I dreamt I fell asleep on a Twix bar last night.”

Jason is a bit taken aback, and pulls a sympathetic face. “Oh. Sorry?” Gaz sighs deeply, seeming very tired.

“Sorry Jay, I don’t mean to lash out at ya, just… it’s hard.” He pauses. “Maybe it isn’t for you, but it is for me.” He scoffs. “I mean, you can tell right?” he nods toward his remaining belly.

“Stop that,” Jason reminds him. Beating himself up isn’t going to help.

“I know, I shouldn’t, just… Sometimes I think, is it worth it? I’m never going to look like you, so why bother?”

“Gaz.” Jason reaches out and pulls him in for a hug. Gary leans into his chest easily. He’s still very nice to cuddle. “That’s not what this is about. This is about getting you healthy. And not in your body, in your mind.” Gary looks up, and Jason can’t help but kiss his forehead affectionately. “You can’t go through life feeling guilty whenever you eat like that. It’ll drive you mad.”

Gary quirks a smile. “Easier said than done, Jay.”

“I know.” He’s not sure he fully understands, but he’s trying. “But that’s what you’ve got me for.”


	50. Dawn 'til Dusk (Howard/Gary, M)

"This is nice," Gary murmurs, lazing against his chest in the early morning sun. "Like the old days."

"It is," Howard agrees. It's not really. They'd never have been allowed to sleep in this long back at the start, for one thing. The Sydney weather is nothing like Manchester. Rob and Mark aren't being twats on the other side of the wall. It's all very different.

But him and Gaz always used to share a room, and they're sharing a room now, because of a hotel mix-up - and they just slotted back together, in more ways than one.

Gary's hand idly runs up and down his chest, tugging the ring. "Reckon we've got time for another round?" he leans in to whisper, nibbling Howard's earlobe, and Howard shudders.

"You'd know." Gaz is always on schedule. Howard's sure he wouldn't ask if there was any chance of it getting in the way of work.

This is another way things have changed. Gaz used to be so shy about these things, he'd never just ask Howard if he wanted to fuck. It took Howard months to get him to admit he was ogling, and longer still to get him into bed. Howard didn't mind though. It was nice, being the one to seduce the innocent boy from Frodsham.

He supposes it doesn't matter now. It's all a delayed experimental phase for Gaz, one that's almost over.

Howard rolls them until he's looming over Gary, staring at his handsome face and down at that new body.  _He's gonna put me out of a job_. Howard always liked him cuddly, but he knows Gary is very proud of himself, having got fit enough to compare with the rest of them. It's going to matter a lot more soon.

"Those dreads of yours stink," Gary whines underneath him, dragging him out of his reverie.

"They do not!" Howard protests, and Gaz just laughs.

"Tell you what mate, if we do this at my place, I'm putting plastic on the pillows first."

Howard knees him in the thigh, which makes Gary laugh louder, and doesn't stop him slowly getting hard over being between Gary's legs, yet again. "And here I was thinking of giving you a blowjob," he grumbles, "but I bet you don't want my nasty mop anywhere near your precious prick, right?"

There's a touch more bitterness in his voice than he means there to be, but Gaz doesn't notice. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he grins, running his fingers down Howard's biceps and squeezing. "C'mon Doug, you know I'm only fooling."

That he does. He's pulled into a kiss, wet, hot and lewd, until they're rubbing together beneath the fancy hotel sheets - Egyptian Cotton, too good for the likes of him. Howard closes his eyes, and tries to make every moment last.

But Gary is getting impatient, one hand reaching behind him to grope Howard's arse, the other wrapping around both their cocks, wanking them both off with practiced efficiency. "Fuck, more, please," he gasps, teeth in Howard's bottom lip, with such sheer raw pleasure that Howard knows it won't change anything. Gary's going to run off and be the big solo star, just like he always planned, long before he even met Howard. He wouldn't be doing any of this if he thought there was a chance of the press finding out. Once the band's over, this is over - and as the gaping Robbie-shaped hole in them would tell you, the band's almost over.

No reason Gaz can't have fun while he's here.

"I love you," Howard gasps, tight in Gary's grip.

There's a pause, and Gary grins at him. "Love you too mate," he says, pulling him into another kiss, and Howard smiles against his lips, like they're talking about the same thing.


	51. Waiting Period (Howard/Robbie, T)

"Do you reckon they want us to fuck?"  
  
Loud as ever, Rob's voice comes through the rush of them trying to get their costumes on in five minutes. Mark, Jay and Gaz respond with a combination of titters and rolled eyes, depending, while Howard laughs. "Yeah, probably. We'll have a word to Nigel next show. Something for the fellas."  
  
"Not just the fellas, I think," Jay muses, to Gary's semi-scandalised look. "The girls don't seem to mind us being all over each other."  
  
Rob ignores that, instead nodding to Jay and him. "Knew there was a reason you two spent so much time 'choreographing'," he says, making air quotes with his fingers. "Why didn't you invite us?"  
  
"Piss off, jailbait."  
  
Howard shouldn't have said that. He's just urged Rob on, and all of a sudden he's all up in Howard's space and draped around his shoulders. Rob's just as tall as him now and has maybe an inch left to grow; Howard feels a bit overwhelmed. "Aww, c'mon Dougie," he coos. "I'm almost sixteen anyway. You know I'm not patient."  
  
The others are watching them, Mark intrigued, Jay concerned, and Gary with a slightly put-out look (if Howard didn't know better, he'd say he was jealous). Howard can feel his face go red. Rob's only kidding about, playing with him, trying to get attention. He's always trying to get attention. He don't mean it. Howard wonders if it's really a good idea for his not quite legal bandmate to be in a club like this, dressed up in next to nothing to be ogled by older men.  
  
Abruptly, Howard realises  _he's_  one of those older men. He don't exactly feel like a grown up, but he's twenty three (or twenty one according to Nigel) - compared to Rob, he's ancient.  
  
So he better push him away, right?  
  
"Well, tough," he says, dragging Rob's hands off him roughly. "Come on, we've got a show to do."  
  
The others seem to be jolted back into action and turn back to getting dressed, to Howard's relief. Rob doesn't though. He looks up at Howard, pouting, and he seems - genuinely rejected?  
  
Howard should just ignore him, but somehow, those green puppy dog eyes get under his skin, and he finds himself muttering: "You can wait two weeks."  
  
Rob grins at him again, and Howard's heart skips a beat when he realises what he just signed up for.


	52. Best Friends (Howard/Gary, Mark/Robbie, T)

"Why do they kiss so much?"  
  
Howard pokes his head up from where he's sat on the sofa, and looks back over his shoulder, to Mark and Robbie. Mark is valiantly trying to answer all his fanmail (now coming in piles over a foot high), while Rob is distracting him with kisses to his cheeks and neck. Mark giggles, pretending to be bothered but doing a very bad job pushing him away.  
  
He returns his gaze to Gary, as ever perched at his piano but now distracted. He shrugs. He has his suspicions, but he doesn't think it's any of his business. "They are best friends," he says.  
  
" _We're_  best friends," Gary points out, which - Howard hadn't really thought of it like that, but he supposes they are, "and we don't kiss like that."  
  
"Well, you don't love me as much as they love each other then."  
  
Howard was only kidding, but Gary makes an offended noise. "That's not true!" Howard says nothing and smiles to himself. Gaz is so easy to rile up sometimes. "What, I'm not as good a friend just because I don't put out? Fine then."  
  
When Gary gets up from his piano stool abruptly, Howard is a bit worried he might have actually pissed him off. But then all of a sudden Gaz is crouched in from of him, one square hand cupping his jaw, and then he kisses him.  
  
Howard is startled at first. He didn't see that coming. Gary's lips are strong and forceful against his own - Howard always thought Gaz would be a clumsy kisser, inexperienced, but no, he's actually pretty good. Howard closes his eyes as he leans up into it, instinctively trying to deepen it, to get Gaz's tongue in his mouth, something like that.  
  
Gary doesn't pull back until Howard's hand is clutching his shirt, pulling him closer. They stare at each other for a second, Gary's eyes gone wide, and worry settles in Howard's gut. This is still  _his_  Gaz he's dealing with, the band prude. He might have taken that too far.  
  
Then a voice rings across the room. "Oi!" Robbie shouts. "Who gave you two permission to start snogging before us?"  
  
That breaks the tension, and Gaz pulls away from him laughing. But when he sits back down he doesn't return to the piano, but curls up next to Howard, maybe an inch too close.  
  
Meanwhile, Mark nuzzles into Rob's shoulder. "Don't worry, I just need to get this done, then we can go snog."  
  
Rob turns and nips his ear. "We'd better."  
  
Just then, Jay decides to enter the room, looking back and forth between the two pairs of them, bemused. "Should I ask?"  
  
Howard thinks this over a second. "Nah," he says. "You'd just feel left out."


	53. Stage Right (Gary/Howard, T)

“Sit in my lap.“ 

 Gary swears he can hear a record scratch noise in his head. Howard is looking up at him while the camera men all shuffle into position. “What, why?” he asks.

Howard takes a second too long to shrug nonchalantly. “This couch isn’t big enough for all five of us,” he says, picking at a loose thread. Sure enough, Mark and Robbie are practically sat on top of each other already, and Jason perched next to their shoulders. Howard has a point. “If you don’t do it, I’ll have to ask one of the others.”

Gary feels an odd jealous twinge in his chest. “Fine then.” With an exaggerated huff he settles on top of Howard’s knee, squirming to get comfy. “If I squash you, it’s your own damn fault.”

Howard says nothing, just smiles as he wraps his muscled arms around Gary’s belly. He’s so  _warm_. A flush rises to Gary’s cheeks. He can feel something poking into his thigh.

“Doug – is that-?”

“Definitely just my keys, mate.”


	54. Repairs (Gary/Robbie, T)

Gary enters the kitchen in the morning and is surprised to see Rob already there. He’s usually the type to sleep from three to noon, and Gary has to drag him out of bed.

Of course, he soon sees the amount of wire and spare parts spread across the kitchen bench - that’s his latest gadget, a portable voice distorter he brought over to show Rob especially. He thought Rob would be interested. He’s always liked things that make him sound otherworldly.

Rob’s head snaps up when he hears Gary’s footsteps, eyes wide like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He clutches a tiny spanner to his chest protectively. “Someone else broke that!”

Gary can only stare, and slowly, let out a deep, beleaguered sigh.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay!” Robbie blurts out. “What happened was, I got up to let the dogs in - I didn’t think they’d bound into the kitchen, and you shouldn’t have left it out here anyway, and I tried to fix it, and I should have stopped them but I wasn’t fast enough…”

He waits until Rob stops babbling and just looks down sheepishly. Then he feels a touch guilty.  _He thinks I’m going to be mad at him_. And maybe Gary should be, but then he glances again at that spanner, and can’t help but smile. He knows Robbie doesn’t know the first thing about machinery. But it’s touching, that he tried.

“Nah, that’s alright.” He circles round the bench and wraps an arm around Rob’s back, pulling him in for a kiss. He feels Rob smile against his lips, knowing all is forgiven.

Gary pulls back. “You’ll just have to dip into that eighty million of yours to buy me a new one.”

Robbie pouts. “You’re still so fucking tight, Gaz.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”


	55. Rediscovery (Mark/Gary, G)

“It’s brilliant, Marko. You know it is.”

Mark keeps looking back and forth between his messy pile of lyrics and Gary’s face, chewing his lip nervously. “Are you sure though?” he asks, and then starts telling himself off in his head. That must be the fifth time he’s asked that. Gaz must be getting sick of him.

But Gary just smiles at him indulgently. “I’m sure.” Then a pained expression crosses his face. “For what it’s worth, anyway.”

He looks away, and Mark, quickly distracted from his own self-pity, rushes to his side. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” This isn’t like the Gary he used to know, who would walk into rehearsals in the morning with a brazen ‘ _listen lads, I’ve written our next hit!_ ’ But it’s been a long ten years for the lot of them.

“Sorry. It’s just…” Gary looks up at him and smiles sadly. “I guess neither of us are really that sure, huh?”

Mark squeezes his hand and, boldly, kisses his cheek. “We’ll do it together then,” he says. “That always helps.”


	56. Funny (Robbie/Gary, M)

“This isn’t funny, Rob!”

Rob, high out of his mind and barely upright against the wall, only laughs louder at that. “’Course it is!” he slurs. “It’s me. Everything I do is funny. ‘M the cheeky chappie, innit?”

Gary just huffs and puffs at him.  _He’s blown my house down a few times, too,_  Robbie thinks, and laughs again. “We have to perform tomorrow! You can’t just do whatever you want–”

A wave of anger rises in Rob’s chest, and he surges forward, pinning Gary to the wall. “Is that right?” Gary gasps as Rob pins his heads above his head. He’s one to talk about Robbie not being able to do whatever he wants. When has Gaz ever not gotten everything he wants?

He laughs again. “C’mon, Gaz. Play the prude all you want. I know you like me like this.” He starts to kiss down Gary’s neck, not bothering to leave marks. “I like you like this too.” He doesn’t, but it is kind of sexy, in a depressing. “You’re hot when you’re mad. Makes me want to bend you over and shut you the fuck up.”

Gary groans as Robbie presses their bodies together, struggling to get his arms out of Rob’s grip, but giving up before he’s anywhere close. Rob knows this isn’t going to change anything; Gaz will go right back to being the uptight, selfish, heartless bitch as soon as he’s come. But Rob might just get a blowjob out of it, so it’s not a total loss.

“Rob… We shouldn’t…”

He laughs one final time, but all the humour in it’s gone. “You know me, Gaz,” he says, one hand down Gary’s pants. “Always doing things I shouldn’t.”


	57. Lace (Howard/Mark, T)

“You bought me lingerie?”

“Yeah.” Mark is grinning at him, bag almost the same size he is by his side on the hotel bed. “I thought you’d enjoy it. You’ve always had a bit of a thing for women’s clothes, right?”

Howard isn’t sure how to respond to that. Maybe he should embarrassed his crossdressing fetish is that bloody obvious.

Mark’s smile takes on a nervous twitch. “How? You know if you don’t want to, we don’t have to. If you’re not into it I can put it away–”

“No, no, I want to.” He’s always wanted to. It’s a wonder he hasn’t done so before. Never had the guts to bring it up, he supposes, so it’s probably for the best Mark decided to take the initiative. “Just… gimme a second.”

Slowly, he steps forward, and with more caution than is really required given all it contains is basically just fucking underwear, he opens the bag. He looks down at the pile of burnt red lace within, sheer and strappy, and bites his lip. “This is nice stuff.”

“Of course. I wasn’t gonna cheat ya.”

Howard smiles fondly, and picks up an impossibly tiny g-string. “Not sure this is gonna fit around my package though mate.”

Mark’s eyes sparkle at him. “Oh, I don’t mind getting a bit of an eyeful.”

“Right.” Howard drops it back in the bag, and without fanfare, starts taking off his shirt.

Mark blinks in surprise. “What, right now?”

“Yeah?” Howard replies. “You’re not bringing all this up to my room and then walking out again like a tease. Come on. No time like the present.”


	58. Hangover (Robbie/Gary, T)

“Are you drunk?”

Robbie is just getting his bearings after being roused from sleep in the middle of the night, as Gary stumbles slowly through the door and toward his bed. “Nooo. No. No.” He walks into the side of it and almost tumbles straight over. “Maybe.”

Rob has to laugh. “Come on, come here, get into bed before you hurt yourself.” He reaches out to pull Gary up on top of the sheets, and immediately gets him clinging to him like a giant teddy bear, without even bothering to take his tie off.  _Yep, he’s drunk alright._  “Can’t believe I’m the one waiting at home while you’re off partying. What happened to us?”

Gary nuzzles against his shoulder. Of course, a lot’s happened to them, but none of it matters now. “Well, someone has to carry on your legacy.”

“I guess so.” Gaz is probably too out of it for him to get laid tonight, but he can at least sneak a booze-soaked kiss.

Or he thinks he can, but Gary pulls away quickly. Rob frowns.  _What have I done now?_  “This is okay, right?” Gaz asks, brow furrowed with concern. “I’m not - mocking you? Because I could go.”

It takes Rob a second to realise what he’s on about, but then he laughs. “Relax, Gaz, you’re wine-soaked breath isn’t much of a temptation.” Gary makes a slightly offended noise. “I’m fine. ‘Sides, it’s three in the fucking morning. I couldn’t be arsed to go get a drink if I wanted to.”

“Never used to stop you,” Gary mutters, but he settles back into position against Robbie’s shoulder, appeased.

Robbie thinks that over. “Yeah, well, we’ve both changed, haven’t we?” he asks wistfully.

Before Gary can respond, he’s already passed out. Robbie smiles. Yeah, he’s definitely changed.


	59. Tease (Gary/Mark, E)

“You’re a tease, you know.”

Gary, halfway through undressing and unzipping his leather trousers far too loudly, makes an offended noise. “I am not,” he sneers automatically. “I’m not the one rubbing my dick all over the stage floor.”

That was hardly necessary, and in the mirror he can see Mark’s eyebrows narrow in disapproval.  _Shit_. “Be nice, Gaz,” he says. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

A flush rises to Gary’s cheeks. “Sorry,” he mutters. “But I don’t think you should be calling me a tease.”

Grinning, Mark sneaks up on him, small hands grabbing his hips and digging in harshly. Gary gasps as Mark’s cock, hard since they were onstage - that always happens to Mark - presses through their trousers and against his arse, He can’t help grinding back against it.

“ _You’re_  a tease because you act like you’re too good for it,” he whispers in Gary’s ear. “Like you’re any less of a slut just because you get to wear trousers when writhing all over the floor. But you can’t keep your hands of us, can ya? And then you get all snappy when someone dares point that out. It’s hardly fair, Gaz.”

Gary groans. He knows Mark’s right, and worse than that, he knows Mark telling him off is getting him achingly hard, to the point he couldn’t pretend not to want it if he tried.

“If you don’t stop being a brat, I really will have to punish you,” Mark points out, and Gary pants, face burning up. “I’ll take you over my knee wherever we are, no matter who’s watching. On stage even.” One hand lets go of Gary’s hip and snakes around his front, finding his erection and squeezing it hard. “Maybe you’d like that, hey?” he asks sweetly. “Being spanked in public, where everyone can see what a lying slag you are?”

“Fuck!” Gary can’t help himself, he bucks toward Mark’s cock, offering himself like he’s on heat. What Mark suggests is humiliating and ridiculous, he knows he’d never do it, but it’s so  _hot._ Gary won’t be able to stop thinking about it.

In the mirror, Mark’s grin widens, and with one last squeeze of his prick and a gentle kiss to his earlobe, he lets go. Gary whines. “Patience, Gaz,” he says, quickly extracting himself from Gary’s body. “Don’t wanna get caught, yeah? Best get back to the hotel first.”

Gary can only stare, aroused and needy, frustrated and baffled, as Mark turns and walks out with one last cheeky wink.

_And he called me a tease!_


	60. Dial Up (Jason/Howard, M)

It’s been awhile since they talked, which Jason feels bad about. Howard laughs it off. “That’s because you insist you can’t dial a booty call on a mobile,” Howard laughs him off, “makes it all hard to organise.”

Jason frowns. “That’s not what this is about,” he says. It can’t be - Howard’s in Spain, whereas he isn’t.

“Close enough.” Jason can just imagine the way he shrugs on the other end of the line. “I know you’ve been missing me.”

Well, that’s true, but: “‘Missing you’ doesn’t just mean ‘missing getting laid by you’.”

“Doesn’t exclude it though, does it?”

Jason is struck dumb for a second, startled into bashful silence, while Howard chuckles. “Are you alone?” he asks, which, really, it’s flattering he thinks he has to. “'Cause I reckon you should take your pants off and make yourself come for me, right now.”

He’s not sure whether to blush or laugh. Leave it to Howard to cut to the chase. “Oh, should I now?”

“You should.” He can hear the grin in How’s voice, and it makes him feel warm inside. He has missed him. “I’ve been missing you too, and we’ve got a lot to make up for. If you want to come so bad, I want to see how many times I can make ya, just through the phone.”

Jason has his doubts this is going to work out as Howard hopes, neither of them is getting any younger after all, but already he’s reaching for his fly, unzipping and massaging the growing bulge in his trousers. He sighs in relief. “I missed this.”

“Love you too, babe,” Howard tells him. “And one more thing: be loud. I want to hear ya.”


	61. Weathering It (Howard/Jason, M)

Howard shivers. It’s bloody  _cold_  in Newcastle. Though even if it wasn’t, he’d still be too cold, given he’s wearing nothing but a vest and a pair of shorts so tiny they barely hide his knickers. He’s not exactly thrilled about the fact, but Nige insisted, and so that’s that. God, how much longer is this photoshoot gonna go on?

They at least get a break for lunch, which is a relief, although the lack of studio lighting only makes him colder. Still, he’s hungry.

He has a slice of pizza halfway down his throat when he notices Jay staring at him. “What’s up?” he asks. “Do I have something on my face?” He hopes he doesn’t have to go back to make-up, that’s only going to make this shoot longer.

Jay doesn’t answer him, not right away. Instead he purses his lips together, looking Howard up and down thoughtfully. Howard thinks he’s repressing a smile. Then he leans in, and with one hand landing on Howard’s inner thigh, he whispers:

“You better get changed out of those shorts soon, or I’ll have them around your ankles by lunchtime.”

Howard jumps a bit. Okay, maybe he should have expected that. It’s not like he and Jay have ever been shy about going at each other basically any second they’re alone. But they’re  _not_  alone, and Jay whispering in his ear like that with all the rest crowded around the table with them, that’s bold.

And sexy.

Still, it’s not like Howard could go get changed if he wanted to, Nige would kill him, so he laughs it off. “It’s already lunchtime.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at him.

Slowly, it dawns on Howard what Jay means by that, and he breaks into a grin. Ah. Well if that’s how Jay wants to play it.

He stands up abruptly. “Sorry lads, gotta head to the loo for a second,” he says. “Don’t wait up.”

As Howard makes the short trek to the bathrooms, he pauses outside the door, catches Jason’s eye. Jason drinks him in from head to toe even more shamelessly, bites his lip, and winks.

Howard goes a bit red. Well. He can’t say being the body of the band comes with  _no_  perks.


	62. Back and Forth (Gary/Robbie, M)

“Gaz, I’m horny.”

Gary sighs in irritation. Of course Robbie’s horny. When isn’t he? “And I’m working.”

He swears he can hear Rob pouting at him. “You’ll work better if you take a break,” he says. “You’re so stressed all the time.”

That’s true, but that’s his job. “Someone has to finish this bloody album.”

“Someone has to finish  _me_.”

“Rob. No.”

“ _Please_?” Robbie isn’t even pretending not to be whining. “I’ll be good! I’ll suck your dick…”

“You’re not being good now!” Gary snaps, pretending that promise doesn’t stir his interest. “Go have a wank and leave me alone.”

That was maybe a bit harsh, and he can hear Rob’s rejected huff behind him. Still, it gets him to shut up and let Gary work on this arrangement for a bit.

Then he hears something else.  _Panting._

Gary frowns, looking back over his shoulder. “Rob, are you–?”

But he doesn’t finish his question. He can see what Robbie’s doing. One hand braced on Gary’s hotel bed, he’s got his fly open and stroking his cock slowly, teasingly, head thrown back in bliss.

Through his expression of pleasure, Rob smiles wickedly. “Mm, yeah. What?” he asks with mock-innocence. “You told me to.”

Gary is flabbergasted. “I  _meant_  somewhere else!” Rob just shrugs and keeps going, soft moans starting to fall from his lips. Gary turns red. He should try and ignore it, but he can’t. He can’t stop staring. The sight of Rob’s cock in his hand makes his mouth water and heat pool in his groin, and fuck, Robbie knows him too well, doesn’t he?

“You’re the worst,” he declares as he gets up to join Robbie on the bed.

“Yeah, but you think it’s hot.”


	63. Structure and Discipline (Gary/Everyone, E)

Gary sighs as he hops into the backseat of his car. Maybe joining the X Factor was a mistake. It definitely has it’s perks, but it does take a lot of time out of his week, and leaves him exhausted by the time he gets home. Hopefully not too exhausted.

Speaking of which, his phone buzzes at him. Gary smiles when he picks it up and sees a text from Howard.  _Saw u on telly tonite._  That’s one of the perks, the boys are always all too willing to share their appreciation of how he looks on screen. Mark in particular is very pleased with his newfound taste for three-piece suits (and has developed a habit of using his ties as impromptu leashes).

Then comes another message:  _robs jealous._

Gary frowns. He didn’t even know Rob was back in the country. Jealous, of what? He supposes he was a bit flirty with Kelly tonight. But that’s all showbiz, they know that.

_He reckons we should teach u better when ur home. show u who u belong to._

Gary’s heart pounds at those words, and his prick jumps. Fuck. He’s in trouble, isn’t he?

_rob wants to fuck you hard, slam you against the wall, make you moan and scream and say your ours. he wants to fill up with our cocks and cum so theres no room left for anybody else._

That makes him moan aloud, and then immediately bite his lip, afraid of the driver hearing him. Still, he can’t help moving the hand not gripping his phone to his crotch, palming himself through his trousers at the thought.

_jay reckons we should be smarter. he thinks we should fuck each other instead, tie u up and make you watch, make u beg and promise to be a good boy first._

_(mark likes this plan. i like robs. we need a tiebreaker.)_

_(were waiting at home 4 u)_

_well gaz? how u want to be punished?_

Without warning, Gary shudders all over and comes hard in his nicely-tailored trousers.

It takes him a second to get his breath back. Well. That’s not going to get him in any less trouble, but hopefully they’ll keep him up.


	64. Under Your Breath (Howard/Gary, M)

“Look, I’m not into choking, but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in awhile.”

Howard double-takes, not sure he heard that right. “You what, mate?”

Gary, lying sweat-soaked and totally naked by Howard’s side, manages to look remarkably shy given he had Howard’s cock up his arse not ten minutes ago. He averts his eyes. That’s Gaz for you. “Just, if you wanted to,” he mutters. “Like we did for that photoshoot, yeah? That was… alright.”

“…Right.” Truth be told, Howard had never thought of it before now. He doesn’t buy for a second Gary acting like he’s only suggesting it in case Howard’s into it. But he should be surprised. Gaz is always making a fuss about what he likes in bed - it would get annoying, except it’s also pretty hot when you actually get him naked and watch all those hangups fall away as he begs for more, so fair’s fair.

“But you’re not into choking, right?”

It takes Gary a second too long to respond, or maybe the way he bites his lip is a bit of a giveaway. “No.”

Howard nods, but doesn’t say anything. He’s not thought about it before, but now he’s tracing the line of Gary’s pale neck with his eyes. He hears Gary’s breath speed up. “How? What are you–?”

In a second, Howard leaps, one hand grasping Gary’s neck and pinning him against the mattress. Gary gasps, and he crawls over to get on top of him, leaning in to murmur in his ear: “so, like this then?”

He pulls back to see Gary, eyes wide with arousal and still-wet prick half-hard again, jutting into Howard’s thigh, nod eagerly. He grins.

Then he  _slips_ , and accidentally, half his bloody weight falls on the hand holding Gary’s throat, cutting off his oxygen.

“Shit.” Howard hurries to readjust himself, but as soon as he lets go Gary lets out a pitiful moan, hips thrusting up to meet Howard’s seemingly entirely of the own will.

Howard pauses.  _Yeah, he’s definitely into it._

Now how to make him admit it?


	65. Claimed (Jason/Howard, M)

“Fuck.” Howard eyes him up and down, letting out a wolf-whistle at Jason’s appearance. “I like.”

Jason can’t help but grin. “I thought you would. Always nice to have a vote of confidence though.” Howard chuckles, and Jason is about to think no more of it, to head off because after all, they have a show to perform. Before he can though, Howard sneaks up on him, grabbing him by the hips and pressing their bodies flush together.

“I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin of yours.”

Jason shivers as he tries to get his proper logical thinking brain back together. What Howard says promises only good things, but he has to maintain some self-awareness: “Someone will notice that.” Nige will kill them if they give themselves something to explain away.

Howard’s hands only grasp him tighter.

“That’s their problem.”

It is remarkable how simple these things can be to Howard. Jason maybe shouldn’t, but he can’t help leaning back into the other boy’s shoulder, relishing his presence. “What makes you think I won’t give as good as I get, Dougie?”

Howard grins against his neck. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”


	66. Liminal (Jason/Mark, E)

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

It is astonishing, really, how sweetly Mark can say the filthiest of things. Although Jason ought to stop being surprised. He keeps his mouth open, panting for breath, the barest bit of air coming in and out of his lungs. He knows there’s a risk to this, but he trusts Mark. He can’t help but trust Mark.

Mark’s cock is hard, dangerously so, rubbing against Jason’s hip. Jason knows he likes this: being on top and in control. His gentle fingers dig oh-so-subtly into Jason’s skin.

“You like that, Jay?” he whispers, sounding genuinely curious. “Me choking the breath out of you?”

It’s almost like meditating, this, catching him somewhere between this life and another, where reality itself falls away. Eyes half-closed, Jason nods. “Please,” he gasps, “harder.”

He can just about see Mark smile as he tightens his grip, and his lungs go dry. There is a balance to all this.


	67. Kept Still (Mark/Jason, E)

“Not yet.”

Mark huffs in frustration, body trapped in a lewd, desperate arch, three fingers inside him and a hand wrapped loosely around his cock. He must look a mess. “Please,” he whispers. He’s not too proud to beg, but it doesn’t do him any good, it only makes Jason smile at him affectionately.

“No.” Jay is never rough, never hurtful, but he won’t give an inch either. He knows what he wants and won’t let Mark get away with anything else. “I’m keeping you like this.”

Mark whines as gentle fingers brush across his prostate, the pressure sweet enough to make his prick twitch and leak, but not enough to finish him off. “Why?”

“Because I like you like this,” Jay explains without missing a beat. “You’re so beautiful when you’re desperate. Well, you’re always beautiful, but still: I can be a bit selfish sometimes.”

Abruptly, Jason lets go of his cock, and Mark lets out a cry of dismay. However he can only stare in awe as Jason lifts his hand to his own mouth, kisses Mark’s pre-come from his palm.

“So I’m going to keep you like this, my pretty little thing,” Jay continues. Mark is panting, watching his lips. “And no matter how good it feels, you don’t get to come until I tell you. Okay?”

Mark moans desperately, but he nods. He can hardly protest.


	68. Signal (Howard/Mark, M)

“Since when do you have a tattoo?”

Mark looks up at him, puzzled, and pulls the shirt he rucked up while putting on his seat belt back down. “Since forever?” he says. “Did you just notice?”

Howard isn’t sure what to say to that, and so he just shrugs. Mark laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t have guessed it,” Howard mutters sheepishly.

“It’s not exactly the Hell’s Angel logo, it’s a dolphin. As tattoos go, that’s pretty innocent.” Mark pauses. “Although the girls do love it.”

Howard blinks. “Really?” He shouldn’t be surprised, given how he’s gotten the girls to scream by just mentioning his nipple ring, but still. Mark’s grin widens, a little less innocent now.

An odd twinge hits Howard somewhere. He knows he has no right, if he hasn’t even been paying enough attention to Mark to notice he has a tattoo (they’re only sitting together on the bus because Gary insisted on working and Jason’s too busy reading his book, which Howard is still sulking about) - but if he didn’t know better, he’d say he was jealous.

Out of nowhere he asks: “Just the girls?”

_Shit, what did I say that for, what is he going to think?_  But Mark only seems more pleased. “Well, you tell me.”

He lifts his shirt once more, barely, giving Howard a peek at the tattoo. He bites his lip. It’s not like Mark is actually showing him much. He’s seen Mark more naked than this. But the tattoo draws attention to what he can see, that tiny sliver of skin, smooth and soft-looking. Howard can just imagine kissing him there.

Unthinkingly he sticks his thumb out, tracing the curve of the dolphin’s head. Mark shivers slightly at the touch. “Careful, Doug,” he whispers. “’S sensitive.”

Howard looks up, unsure what Mark means by that, if he’s trying to warn Howard off or keep him going. Suddenly, he realises he out to check the other’s can’t see what they’re doing. But they’re at the back of the bus, Jason and Gary are still deep in their activities and Rob is busy trying to distract them both. They should be good.

He keeps stroking while he scouts the coast is clear, and Mark shivers underneath him. “That feels nice,” he coos. “You’re not just teasing, are you?”

Howard turns back toward him, and chuckles. “Nah,” he says. “Don’t worry, turns out I’m a slag for a tattoo.”


	69. Facepaint (Robbie/Gary, T)

"Rob? Can you come help me with my make-up for a bit?"  
  
Rob is already irritated, which might just be the result of having too much to drink, but he's just irritated enough to do as he's told - because he's trying to prove something, that he's a good boy who can do as he's told, though he knows it won't work, fuck. "What's the matter?" he asks, clumsily dipping the brush available in powder. "Nige won't like it if you're not pretty enough?"  
  
It's not like Robbie has a fucking clue how to apply make-up, but Gary doesn't either, and so he just rolls his eyes at Rob's sneering. "Like he'd notice," he mutters. "Just get it done."  
  
Gary's face curls in an ugly grimace, and Rob grabs his hair to keep him still. "I would, if you'd fucking shut up for a minute." He's angry, being ordered about yet again. Gary loses a breath for a minute. Until the powder Rob is abusing his face with enters his lungs, and he begins to hack and cough.  
  
It might be a better idea to back off for a second, but Rob is too gone for that, so his grasp of Gary's hair only tightens, forcing the paint down upon him. "There," he concludes, spittle flying from his lip, not willing to let go yet. "That's as good as you're gonna look."  
  
 _One, two, three,_  and Gary gulps hard, not likely to acknowledge any of Robbie's insults. "Thank you," he says, his hair a sweaty mess, but there's nothing they can do about that now, is there? "I better go."  
  
Rob swallows his rage, because Gary looks just fine as he walks away, and that will never change. Or at least, not yet.


	70. Hold Tight (Gary/Howard, T)

He wasn't sure Howard was going to show up. He doesn't see many people anymore, really, and it has been years. He doesn't know how he would have taken that, but it doesn't matter, because there Howard is, on his doorstep.  
  
Howard looks exactly the same. The dreads are gone, but that's it. He's neither aged a day nor gained an inch. Gary feels horribly ashamed of the state  _he's_  in, and wants to crawl back under his rock, but before he can he's swept up in a huge hug, Howard almost crushing the life out of him.  
  
"Hey Gaz," says Howard, trying to be casual, sounding like he's on the brink of tears. Gary isn't sure how to react at first.  _He can barely get his arms around me,_  he thinks at first, but Howard doesn't say a thing. He is warm and safe and strong, and Gary can't help leaning into him.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Eventually they realise they can't stand cuddling in the cold forever, and so they move inside, to whichever of the sitting rooms in Gary's ridiculous and ridiculously empty popstar mansion is closest. They're still touching, Howard's hand grasping his forearm. Gary knows it's not 1995 anymore, but he can't go yet.  
  
They curl up together on the couch like they were never apart, Gary lazing against Howard's shoulder, Howard playing with his hair. It feels familiar, and Gary smiles to himself, the nostalgic glow only slightly laced with pain.  
  
Eventually though, they can't just hold each other forever, they actually have to talk. "So," asks Howard awkwardly, "how have you been?" Gary can't help but scoff at that, but regrets it when he feels Howard wince. "Sorry. Shouldn't have asked." He pauses a moment, then tightens his arm around Gary's shoulders. "Bastards."  
  
Gary looks up in surprise, and sees the anger written on Howard's face. "Sorry, Gaz, it's just - I can't believe they did this to you," he practically spits. "It's not fair. You didn't deserve all that. What did the papers ever do for anyone anyway? Who are they to slag you off? I..."  
  
"Doug." Gary interrupts his rant. "Dougie, you're crying."  
  
Howard pauses, sniffing a bit. "Am I?" He feels beneath his watery blue eyes, and then lets out a shy, self-deprecating laugh. "So I am. Sorry Gaz, just - you know what I'm like."  
  
"It's fine," Gary is quick to reassure him, and without thinking he reaches up to wipe away one of those tears himself. Howard looks startled, and Gary pulls back hurriedly. Maybe that was too far. "I'm just surprised," he says. "You care that much?"  
  
Howard looks baffled. "Of course I do."  
  
Gary can only stare at him. He remembers all that's past in the last six years - or the last twelve. It was him who wanted to leave, to go off and chase his solo dreams, when How all but begged him not to. Gary doesn't deserve him. He never has done.  
  
And yet here he is, same as ever.  
  
Suddenly it's Gary's eyes that are watering, and he looks away to hide them.  
  
"Gaz?" Howard squeezes him gently. "Are you alright?"  
  
Gary collapses into his chest, tears running down his cheeks. "God, I missed you."


	71. Stripped (Howard/Gary, T)

This is his job. It always has been. It doesn't matter what he does on the backing vocals or the way he dances - all that is great, sure, so long as it doesn't interfere with his primary purpose, which is to get his kit off and make them all scream at what he looks like underneath. Howard knows that.  
  
The door swings open as Howard waits on a changing room bench, clad in only his G-string. "Hey Dougie," Gary tells him casually, still in a rush, like he always is, and like Howard knows he ought to be as well.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Gary pauses, clearly hearing how miserable he sounds. "You right, mate?" he asks, walking over to put his hand on Howard's shoulder.  
  
Howard makes a noncommittal noise. He can't bring himself to say yes, but he doesn't want to explain either. He doesn't know how he would.  
  
"You looked great out there, by the way." Gaz leans in closer, not appeased by Howard's non-answer. "Incredible. One in a million." His breath runs hot again Howard's neck. You could accuse him of having ulterior motives. "I wish I had a body like that."  
  
Of course Gaz wishes he had Howard's body. He gets so insecure about being 'the fat one' of the band. He wishes he looked good enough to be stripped down and shown off, night after night after night. He doesn't get it.  
  
But Howard can't blame him for that. He loves Gaz. "I know, just..." but he can't explain. He's never been any good at talking.  
  
Gary holds him closer. "C'mon, we've got to be back on stage soon," he says. "You don't have to get changed, right?"  
  
No, Howard doesn't. He re-enters hopelessly exposed, and even under the stage lights, he feels cold.


	72. Ensemble (Robbie/Mark, M)

Mark always gets turned on performing. Robbie isn't sure he gets it, really, but he does appreciate the results: an armful of Mark needy and aching for him, too desperate to make it back to the hotel. This time, they've not even made it offstage; they're at it against the speakers with a pile of tickertape someone will have to come in to clean up soon. But Mark gets off on that, and Rob, Rob's always been a risk taker.

One of Mark's hands is already down Rob's trousers, playing with his cock, and Robbie really ought to return the favour but they're currently so tangled together he's not sure he can reach. Besides, Mark might not need it. He writhes and arches so lewdly as he rubs himself on Rob's thigh, it seems like he's worked himself into a proper state gyrating for all the girls out there. The little slag.

"Oh fuck, Rob," Mark whispers into his skin, trying to keep from being too loud and doing a pretty rubbish job of it. His thumb traces the slit of Robbie's cock, earning a grown. "I love you, love your cock so much. Want it so much. Fuck..."

"Yeah." Rob shifts his hips forward so Mark can get a better feel. "No-one else fills you up like I do, huh? No-one makes you feel that good?"

"Mmm," Mark moans. "I mean, I guess Howard's bigger, but--"

Rob stops.

_Wait, what?_

Mark lets out a soft whine of protest, but nonetheless Robbie pulls back, trying to process this information.

"Hang on, you've shagged Howard?"

"Yeah?" Mark blinks in confusion. "Haven't you?"

Robbie's eyes go wide, and he shakes his head furiously. No, that's not happened. Not that he wouldn't shag Howard, mind - body like that, Robbie reckons anybody would - but he's never been given the opportunity.

"Oh." Mark starts to look very embarrassed. "Sorry, I just assumed - I thought we were all sleeping together. Oops." He bites his lip.

It takes Rob a second to process what that means. "So you've shagged all our bandmates, then?"

"...Yeah," Mark says, sheepish. "Well, mostly you, Jay, and Howard. You know what Gaz is like. I'm still working out how to talk him into bending me over that piano of his."

Robbie pouts. He's not sure how to react to all this, whether he should laugh or be deeply jealous. Probably both. "I thought I was your best friend?" he whines. "Why aren't you turning to me whenever you get horny?"

"I am!" With his spare hand - the one not still wrapped around Rob's cock - Mark squeezes his forearm reassuringly. "Come on, you know I'll always pick you first. But if you're busy causing trouble, or getting a bollocking from Nigel for causing trouble, you can't be mad at me for getting off with one of the others, can ya?"

He supposes not. They're not dating or anything.

Mark sighs. "Now, are you actually going to fuck me, or have I ruined the mood?"

Robbie thinks this over a second, then grins. "Oh, I'll fuck you. Not yet though. Come on, the others must be waiting for us." Mark looks rather put out as Robbie disentangles their bodies, but then Rob gives his dick a squeeze through his trousers - and finds him just as hard as before. "I bet they're waiting for you, specifically."

It takes Mark a second to realise what he means, but then, he blushes and grins again. "See, that's why you're my favourite," he says. "No-one else would offer me that."


	73. Beginner's Guide (Jason/Gary, M)

“Seriously, no-one?” Jason asks, his hand millimetres from Gary’s prick, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, but not touching him, not yet.

Gary’s face turns even redder at that comment, and he avoids Jason’s eye even as he keens toward his grip. “Don’t say it like that. I’m not even twenty yet, it’s not that unusual. Not everyone spends all their nights in clubs–”

“Shh.” Jason pulls him in for another kiss, because if he’s going to be the first to ever toss Gaz off, he should try and avoid being insulted in the process. He’s not sure why he’s bothering, really, except then Gary moans into his mouth, shaking and scrabbling at Jason’s shirt for purchase, and Jay knows why. He finds debauching the innocent like this unfathomably sexy. He can’t deny that.

He moves his hand and finally takes a hold of Gary’s rock-hard erection, earning a moan so loud you could hear it across the channel. “Relax, Gaz,” he grins. “I’m gonna look after you.”


	74. Dancers (Gary/Howard, M)

“Gaz, sit down for a sec, would ya?”

Gary doesn’t know what Howard wants from him. Rehearsals have been long and exhausting, and his legs can barely keep him upright anyway, so he collapses onto a chair without hesitation. He eyes Howard, and discovers he looks nervous. That makes Gary nervous.

 _What’s all this about then?_  he wants to ask, but before he can Howard is in front of him - Howard is on him, hips rolling in smooth circles as he grinds atop Gary’s thigh.

Gary gasps and starts turning red. This isn’t happening. It can’t be. He’s wanted it to happen - fantasised about it - for a long time, but been resigned to the fact it never will just as long. He’s married, for christ’s sake! Surely he can’t just go along with this?

He ought to laugh it off, push Howard away and ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but he can’t do that. He can’t say no. He can barely even breathe.

Howard’s fingers skim lightly over his belly, and Gary bucks toward the touch. He wants more. Then Howard takes his hand and guides it down to grab his arse. Gary shouldn’t, but he can’t resist, he squeezes and gropes pathetically, and earns a low groan from Howard’s lips.

He’s getting hard and he’s sure Howard knows he’s getting hard, but he doesn’t seem terribly inclined to do anything about it, barely brushing against Gary’s erection as he expertly rolls his hips. Still, even the fleeting touches are enough to make Gary moan, as he imagines what could happen here if he got Howard naked and took what he wanted. Howard leans in to chuckle against his ear.

“Yeah, your wife definitely won the bet.”

That snaps Gary out of it, and he pulls back, both to boggle and to remind himself that yes, he has a wife, and as such he really shouldn’t be getting lap dances from his best friends. Or at least, he shouldn’t be getting turned on by them. “Wait, what?” he asks. “What have you two been saying about me?”

Howard looks sheepish, but also rather amused. “Well, I thought you’d want her to dance with you for the routine, but she disagreed.” He shrugs. “She thought you wanted to live vicariously through one of us, and uh, it wasn’t me.”

There is a lot for Gary to break down there, but before he can Howard squeezes his thigh. “Don’t worry, she wants us to have a good time,” he says. “Now do you want the rest of this dance or what?”


	75. Boundaries (Gary/Jason, E)

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

Gary, despite having come this far already, still instinctively wants to deny it, even as he lies face-down arse-up, wrists bound together and legs spread apart, leashed to the bed. He knows Jay would never believe him though, not least because of how much he begged while Jay was tying the ropes.

Jay looms over him, completely naked and completely perfect, and Gary is relieved he can’t see much of him, because that would be even more overwhelming than this is already. His cock rests gently in the groove of Gary’s arse, and he squirms, trying to get it pressed against him, into him, harder, deeper, something. The thick lengths of nylon twine pull insistently at his wrists, making him hiss. He’ll have bruises there tomorrow.

“Easy Gaz,” Jay tells him, one hand squeezing his shoulder and finding him shaking. “I’ll look after you. You just need to lie there and relax.”

 _Easy for you to say,_  thinks Gary, but he still smiles when Jay leans down to press a tender kiss to the back of his neck. Then Jay starts moving, kissing his way down Gary’s spine, and his cock slides away from Gary’s hole by necessity. Gary whines in protest, then blushes at his own neediness.  _Christ. Maybe next time I should make him gag me._

In truth, it’s not like Gary has much choice than to do what Jason said, relax and let him do what he will. Jason’s tongue slots in between his cheeks and starts lapping at his rim. Gary almost screams, but the ropes hold him tight as ever.


	76. Pleasure and Pain (Robbie/Jason, E)

Rob’s been with a few dominatrixes in his time - he’s a man of the world - but never quite like this. Jay hasn’t even done anything properly kinky, no handcuffs, no whips, nothing like that. He doesn’t have to. He just has to make Robbie want to please him.

And Robbie does want to please him, so badly.

“I told you no hands,” Jay pulls off his cock to tell him, when Rob instinctively tries to clutch his hair to pull him closer.

Robbie whimpers. “Sorry.” He clutches the back of the chair he’s sitting on to try and stop that happening again. And then, because he’s already forsaken all his pride: “Please?”

Jason smirks and returns to what he was doing, swallowing Rob’s cock right to the back of his throat without hesitation. Robbie moans obscenely, thighs tense against the hardwood chair, trying with everything he has in him not to buck into the overwhelming pleasure. He’s never been known for his self-control.

He feels like he’s been dangling on the edge for hours, Jason taking him right to the brink of orgasm but refusing to let him finish. You’d think his jaw would be getting sore by now, but that’s not the point. He wants to be in control, to have Robbie only come when he wants it. And Rob wants to give him that, really.

But it’s  _hard_ , no pun intended.

“Oh please, oh please, oh please,” he gasps as Jason pulls off him again, instead taking his balls into his mouth to suck and kiss. One hand finds his length and gives him long, gentle strokes, thumb circling his leaking the leaking head.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you Rob?” Jason asks, lips red and swollen, breath hot against Rob’s groin. “Going to shoot your load all over me, are ya? Couldn’t stop if you tried?”

Robbie can’t keep from writhing in place anymore, and he nods with a desperate sob. “Please, I can’t–”

Jason’s hand frightens just a fraction of an inch around him, and that’s enough. Rob’s cock starts to spurt everywhere.

Then Jay lets go.

Rob is disoriented, but it’s too late, his cock spills all over himself, throbbing and pulsing as it turns his belly white and sticky. Jason has gotten to his feet now, and watches him like he’s a fascinating science experiment.

Rob groans as he runs out of come to spill, his cock twitching as it retracts back to its normal size. Alright, he just came, but he doesn’t really feel like it. He still feels very unsatisfied. He glares up at Jason accusingly. “Hell was that for?” he asks.

Jason can’t help smirking. “Because I’m not done with you yet,” he says. “And I’m not letting you come properly until then. You have to earn that.”

Rob blinks in surprise. Shit. Okay. This is going to be a long night.

While Rob is still processing this, Jason settles in his lap, pulling him into a wet, lewd kiss. Robbie moans and kisses back enthusiastically. He knows Jason knows Rob will do whatever he’s told - uncharacteristically - and so he can demand what he likes.

Fuck if that thought don’t make Rob’s prick twitch though.

“Now come on,” Jason says, fingers caressing Robbie’s wet and limp cock. It makes him whimper. “Let’s go to the bedroom. I want to get you hard again. I want to take you for a ride. I want to know if Robbie Williams’ cock is really worth all the gossip.”


	77. Play (Robbie/Gary, M)

“Th-that isn’t mine.”

Rob raises his eyebrows. That wouldn’t have been very convincing had he just found the vibrator in Gary’s room, but Gaz could have made a case for it. It’s even less convincing now he’s spied Gaz fucking himself with it, heard it buzzing deep inside him and Gary moaning like a whore at what it does to him.

Still, he can’t fault Gaz for having trouble thinking up an excuse. He looks an utter wreck, red-faced, sweaty and shaking, and Rob doesn’t know how much of that is from mortification at getting caught, and how much is from what Robbie caught him doing.

His prick twitches.

“‘Kay,” he says, trying very hard to repress his grin. Doesn’t work. “Whose is it then?”

Gary somehow blushes even deeper, curses under his breath. “Okay, fine, it’s mine,” he says. “But it’s not what you think.” Robbie blinks. Did he say he thought anything? “I’m not - gay, I’m just…”

While he’s blathering, Rob picks up the vibrator, now neatly switched off, and examines it. It’s good quality, this. Gaz has clearly made a lasting investment. “So, what, you like putting a fake cock up your arse, but you wouldn’t like a real one?” he asks.

Gary is practically purple by now. “Rob - that’s been–”

Robbie knows exactly where it’s been, and that should disgust him, but it doesn’t. Not right now. He drops it back on the bed anyway. “Just, it’s a shame,” Rob shrugs faux-casually. “I could make you feel better than that stupid toy.”

As Gaz gawps at him, Robbie tries to ignore his heart thumping in his chest. In truth, he’s always wanted this, wanted  _him_ , and he’s been doing his best to ignore that fact for most of the last four years. He always assumed that if he ever actually tried anything, Gary, oh-so-proper Gary, would reject him without even a second thought, crush him underfoot.

Gaz could still do that. He probably will. But Rob knows if he doesn’t try now, he’ll never be brave enough again.

“…What?” Gary eventually replies, softly.

Robbie grins, trying to hide that he feels like he’s about to faint. “Come on, Gaz. I’m up for it if you are.” And with a quick glimpse downward, he can see Gary is still  _very_  up for it, even as he tries to hide his modesty with a sheet. Which is good. Robbie doesn’t want to the be only one whose hard-on is killing him here. “You might as well give it a chance, right?”

Gary doesn’t answer him. He looks - suspicious, like he isn’t sure whether Rob is taking the piss or not. But slowly, his legs shuffle apart, making room, then he throws the sheet back and nods.

Rob’s heart almost leaps out of his chest, and he scrambles into position between Gary’s legs, pulling him into a messy, enthusiastic kiss. Gary moans into his mouth. “Gaz,” Rob breaks away, laughing with delight, “I promise, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”


	78. Overextended (Mark/Everyone, E)

“Easy, Markie.”

Jay looks awfully concerned for a man with someone about to give him a blowjob. Mark tilts his head to the side. “You haven’t gotten off yet,” he says. “Thought I ought to help you out with that.”

Howard scoffs, even with one hand grabbing Mark’s arse. “You’re too nice for your own good, mate,” he says, which, to be fair, is far from the first time Mark’s heard that. “How many times have you come, five? We don’t want to drain you dry.”

His fingers slip between Mark’s cheeks and Mark moans at them tracing his stretched, wet hole. He’s right, Mark has been fucked within an inch of his life, and there’s a chance he might collapse entirely. And yet: “well, that just means I owe you more in return, right?”

A sharp spank to his arse makes him jump, and Howard laughs. “Don’t worry, I can take care of him. Or, if those two would stop cuddling for a second…”

Both of them look over to Gaz and Rob, curled together on the other side of the bed, Rob’s arms wrapped around Gary’s belly and his hands around his cock, while Gaz moans, but looks half-asleep. “Hey, I’m busy here,” Rob protests.

Jason laughs. “I don’t think we’re prying those two apart without a crowbar.”

Robbie looks a little sheepish, kissing Gary’s shoulder. Gaz squirms against him. “Go on, go take care of our Jay. I’ll be fine. Gimme a second to get my breath back.” He leans back to kiss Rob on the lips, and then Rob sighs, moving over to the rest of them.

To Mark’s surprise though he doesn’t go to Jason, but instead to him, kissing behind his earlobe. Mark doesn’t think he can get it up again, and doesn’t want to disappoint, but Rob’s hands clasp his hips regardless.

“You know, I’m not sure you’re as selfless as you act,” he murmurs in Mark’s ear. “I think you like us fucking us until you’re worn out, huh?”

His eyes cross over as Rob’s cock rubs against his hole. He can’t say Rob is wrong.


	79. Amateur (Robbie/Jason, E)

Sexual tension, they call it. Robbie thought that must be it. Good a reason as any he and Jay have never quite been able to get on, even when getting on is half their fucking job. Rob was just wasted enough to think it was a good idea, he supposes.  
  
He's started to regret it now, with his cock halfway up Jason's arse, which is really a bit late for second thoughts. He braces himself above him, hot and sweaty and panting, not sure what to do next.  
  
Jay groans, squirming underneath him. "It's alright, Rob," he says, but already he sounds annoyed. "You're doing fine. Just relax."  
  
"I know what I'm doing!" Rob doesn't, really. Still, Jay's probably done this with half a dozen fellas, he probably knows exactly how short Rob falls. Prick.  
  
Jason rolls his eyes, and any hope that finally fucking would resolve the tension between them seems dashed. Robbie huffs, and clumsily increases the pace of his thrusts. Maybe he can't get this right, but at least he can make Jay moan.  
  
Jay does moan, soft fingers tracing gentle patterns across Rob's shoulders. "That's it... you're doing well... yeah, right there-"  
  
"Shut up!" Rob doesn't need his fucking advice. "I know I don't know what I'm doing, okay, you don't have to patronise me; I know I'm too small-"  
  
"Shh." Jason pulls him into a kiss, and Rob makes a vague noise of protest, but he can't help plunging in deeper. His heart thumps in his chest. He has no idea what he's doing, but nevermind. He thrusts into Jason's hole as hard as he dares, makes him moan, and tells himself that means he's doing it right.


	80. Lyrical (Robbie/Gary, M)

"You're not in fucking Nirvana."  
  
And like that, Gary cuts right through him, through anything he might have hoped for, any crumb of praise, just like always. Rob doesn't know why he expected anything different.  
  
He can't let Gaz know though. "Fuck off, you cunt," he snarls, post-coital cigarette between his lips, the profanity falling from them easily, but all it does is make Gary roll his eyes. "Maybe we don't all want to recycle the same four chords garbage for teenage girls the rest of our lives."  
  
There's a flash of anger in Gary's eyes. "My songs are not garbage." And for a second, Rob thinks he might get something out of him, some spark of human emotion. But of course not. Gary's much too well trained for that. "The fuck do you know about prostitution anyway? See, I stick to what I know."  
  
Rob feels the fire within him roar.  _Oh I know plenty._  What have they been doing the past five years then, but selling themselves to the highest bidder? Robbie's sold himself so much he doesn't know he's got anything left.  _But not as much as you._  Gary's always been so ambitious, he'd do anything or anyone to get ahead. Robbie knows he's not the first man to have Gary's legs open for the sakes of his precious career. That's the only thing Gaz will ever want. He certainly doesn't want  _him_.  
  
He stamps out the ciggy on Gary's antique bedside table and grabs him by the hair, pinning him face down against the mattress. Gaz gasps, but he doesn't seem worried. He knows Rob is too soft to actually  _do_  anything to him. He really is a cunt.  
  
Rob looms above him, panting in his ear, and truth is, he doesn't really know what to do now. Gary groans into the sheets. "Rob, are you drunk?"  
  
He has to laugh. They've been fucking for an hour and a half now, did Gaz just notice? "Yeah." He thought he might be able to get Gaz pissed by sticking his vodka-soaked tongue up his arse, but he doesn't think that's how it works. "Why, does that worry you?"  
  
There's a pause, and then Gary scoffs. "No," he mutters, sounding more annoyed than anything. "Why would it?"  
  
Rob feels an odd stab of pain then. Why should Gary worry about him indeed? "Just, you know," with his spare hand, he traces up the line of Gary's inner thigh slowly, makes him shudder, "if I lose control of my inhibitions. You never know what I might do."  
  
Silence. Robbie thinks he can tell what Gary's thinking in that moment, what he wants, what he dreads, what will bring him back to Rob's level in a way just fucking him has never managed. But what does go through Gary's head, anyway? Rob has no idea. He wants to hurt him, or to impress him - and to fuck him, which might fall under either of those categories.  
  
Then Gary rolls on his side, shattering the illusion Rob had any control over him to begin with. "Don't be ridiculous," he says, reaching for a cigarette himself. "You're just mad I didn't like your song."  
  
Yeah, that's probably true. Maybe. Rob doesn't know. He doesn't know what he wants, what he thinks, what he needs, but he at least strongly suspects everything's about to fall apart.


End file.
